


The Dreamer’s Lights

by casblackfeathers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Grace Sharing, Hand Jobs, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mary Lives, Masturbation, Pining, Romance, Soul Bond, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 118,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8705233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casblackfeathers/pseuds/casblackfeathers
Summary: Dean never dreamed about much. His life was made of concrete ideas, plans his feet could follow – like his job as a bladesmith and the family he could rely on – not staring up at the stars, or falling hard for a black-winged angel whose grace glowed in shades of silver and blue.
After Dean is shipped off against his will to fight in the war between Michael and Lucifer, that changes; when he’s not dreaming of home – of hushed promises and blue eyes as deep as the sea – he’s drenched in nightmares of blood and death.
With Sammy’s help and the angels on their heels, Dean manages to escape the front lines. Now Dean’s returned to the kingdom and is forced to confront the past, as well as the tragic events that took him away from home three years ago – starting with his betrayal by the angel he fell in love with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is! What a ride this was. I had the idea for this fic a year ago in a dream, which is kind of funny considering the title I ended up giving to this fic, and I never would have thought this would end up this long and that I would get to know such incredible people because of this fic.
> 
> I want to thank my amazing betas, I know taking up such a long fic when you have a deadline to meet isn't easy, but you all did an incredible job and made this fic a thousand times better. I wouldn't have made it without you. [umbel-weed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbel),[swlfangirl](http://swlfangirl.tumblr.com/) and [metatron-the-transformer](http://metatron-the-transformer.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And [anjika-flan](http://anjika-flan.tumblr.com/) the amazing artist of this fic, I feel so lucky I’ve got to work with you, thank you so much for all your support and for helping me when I had problems with ao3 and for all the incredible art you did for this fic.
> 
> Also, thanks to the DCBB mods for organizing this challenge and for giving me such a great first DCBB experience.

 

 

** Present day **

Damn the angels! Damn all of them and their arrogant, self-centered asses. They had brought nothing but trouble ever since they’d come crashing into Dean’s life – with their blue eyes, and soft, dark hair…

Dean’s thoughts screeched to a halt and he shook his head to force those memories out of his mind. He couldn’t think about him. Not after everything that had happened.

And definitely not at this particular moment, while running for his life – literally – in the middle of these freaking woods, with his baby brother only a few steps ahead of him.

“What do you mean you lied?” Dean yelled, his voice rising almost four octaves as he tried to keep up with Sam. “Michael didn’t give you that permit?”

“This isn’t exactly the time, Dean,” came Sam’s voice from ahead. Okay, so he was probably right, though Dean would never admit it, especially not when he was so pissed off and frustrated.

His legs ached after running for so many miles, he was soaking wet from the rain that kept pouring down on them and, the cherry on the top, an angel of the freaking Lord was right behind them, trying to murder their sorry asses.

“Oh,” he yelled. “How inconsiderate of me! Let’s just sit down, relax and have a cup of tea while you calmly explain to me why the  _hell_ we’re in the middle of this mess with that feathery dick-bag over there after us!”

“Less sarcasm and more running, Dean.”

Dean lowered his head in time to avoid the concentrated beam of yellow and white light coming from the angel pursuing them. “ _Shit._ ”

“Keep going, Dean, we have to go faster.”

“That’s easy for you to say, with those freakishly long legs,” he snarled right as another flash of yellow and white filaments disintegrated one of the trees next to him. Its long and old branches crashed to the ground, splattering Dean with mud, wet slimy leaves and god only knew what else. Dean barely managed to avoid being taken down in the process. “Dammit.”

“I’m going to capture you, Dean Winchester.” The guttural voice penetrated Dean’s entire body. “And when I do, you will regret your worthless existence.”

“Keep dreaming, Sparkly.” Dean tried to keep his voice steady. They were lucky the angel hadn’t caught them yet, but thanks to Sammy’s brilliant creations - anti-angel weapons, his brother had informed him - they had managed to injure and slow the angel down. Sam took another glass container from his bag - it was round and small enough to fit easily in his palm. He kept his fingers around the safety pin, ready to activate the sealed weapon which contained a mishmash of potions Dean knew nothing about, but he was eternally grateful for it. His brother had used two on this angel already, but he was still dangerously close to catching up to them.

Sam tripped and hissed under his breath, while Dean struggled to dodge the thick vines and sharp thorns, his legs caving under the pressure of the bushes that covered the Olora’s woods at this time of the year. Dean’s wet clothes clung heavy against his skin and his aching muscles faltered again, already drained by the miles they had run.

The rustling of wings was the only warning Dean got before a wave of pain surged through the back of his head as the angel hit him with the hilt of his angel blade. His legs gave out and Dean hit the ground, his body twisting and rolling a couple of feet to land on his back. He struggled to catch his breath, but the sharp pain coursing through his body forced a low, tremulous yelp out of his lungs. Dean could feel his head getting soaked in warm blood and he had twisted his ankle in the fall. He closed his eyes, trying to fight the urge to spill the contents of his stomach on the damp ground beneath him.

There was a loud, violent explosion nearby and Sam shouted out his name, but Dean couldn’t get his body to move. The cacophony of sounds kept coming, roaring in Dean’s ears like thunder reverberating through his body, until it all stopped. The sudden silence made Dean still, and a consuming fear crept into his mind. He groaned as a new surge of pain shot through his body when he attempted to move his head and look for any sign of his brother, but he was met by nothing but gravel and rocks.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice came out hoarse and unsteady. “Sammy? Answer me!”

Strong hands grabbed his arms and Dean fought against their hold until his little brother’s voice interrupted his struggle. “It’s me, Dean.” Dean’s eyes adjusted and Sam’s face came into focus. “I managed to knock him out, but he won’t stay that way for long. We have to go,” Sam rasped. “Now!”

Dean’s world spun as he felt Sam lift him off the ground. Daggers of white hot pain shot through him and Dean suppressed a groan – his sprained ankle was already swelling, he had a nasty headache where he’d been hit, and the rest of his body was surely covered in bruises.

“Dean, we have to keep moving,” Sam pleaded. “The boat is right ahead, we just have to go on a little bit more.”

Dean nodded, settling his arm over Sam’s shoulders, and let Sam take most of his weight as they continued on their journey.

They kept a slow, but steady pace, until Sam’s voice broke the silence with a mix of relief and euphoria as they reached the shore. “There it is, there’s the boat right there. We’re going home. We’re going home, Dean.”

Sam picked up their pace, dragging Dean along with him. In a few wobbling strides they crossed the beach and reached the small wooden boat that would take them to Benny’s ship.

A man waited for them, a long and tough life navigating the seas visible in his frame and the white-gray hair covering his head. He pulled his black cloak around his thin body to shelter himself from the cold rain. His wrinkles deepened when the man spotted them and smiled. “Aye there mates, I’m Clive. Come on up, the Captain is waiting for ya."

They nodded and wasted no time in following the man’s instruction. The relief Dean felt when he finally sat down was overwhelming. His head was killing him and his body was shutting down; his muscles twitched uncontrollably in a last-ditch effort to keep him awake and warm, but the pull to finally go numb was too tempting to resist. He leaned back, resting his head against the edge of the boat, and looked up to the sky. The rain had stopped, and a light breeze filled the air, as a peaceful night began to fall.

He closed his heavy eyelids, thankful for being free from the place that took away three years of his life. Dean let go and stopped fighting.

Dean dreamed. And if that included bright blue eyes, soft skin and whispered promises, like every other time he’d have these dreams, Dean would deny it all in the morning.

 

  

The angels had lived amongst humans since long before Dean was born. There were records in ancient scrolls of times when only humans and wild animals populated the Earth. Then the angels fell from above in their corporeal vessels, burning the blues skies into flaming reds.

Caged in their new vessels, the angels looked human if not for their wings and their colorful demonstration of power. But in this world, each use of their grace drained them until there was nothing left. After years of war, with thousands of them dying out, the angels realized they needed the humans just as much as the wingless beings needed their protection.

Souls. Pure, limitless, adapted to this strange planet, and human. The angels needed to frequently consume the essence of human souls in order to keep using their powers. With that realization, the kingdoms were born, forged by necessity and solidified by alliances between humans and angels living together for the same goal. Angels would protect the humans and in return, humans would offer part of their souls - their essence - to the angels.

In Dean's experience, angels were douchebags and full of themselves, but they had never broken the truce. The kingdoms ruled by them had always been thriving and at peace – unlike the other territories, where humans ruled themselves, and fought constantly over lands, resources and allies.

The Kingdom of Pir had been Dean’s home all his life. Piamoel, his hometown, was the heart of the kingdom. Michael, being the oldest of the angels, was the ruler of the kingdom and lived along with other angels in the castle in the west part of town. Humans lived in the other half and Dean had never had much contact with any angel.

That had all changed when Dean had been too distracted by black wings and silvery blue grace to protect himself from the fall.

The angels indeed achieved what they had promised. All kingdoms had lived in harmony since their creation. And, sure, Dean was never much of a fan of the guys, never really agreed with what his people had to give to keep their end of the bargain, but at least his family and friends were protected from the agony of having to witness upfront the trail of destruction the war left behind.

Apparently, Dean was not the only one who had a problem with this pact between angels and humans. Lucifer, Michael’s brother, wasn’t so keen on having to control his powers and not use them against humans. He had become tired of watching his kind be subjected to the world of Man; not long after that, the war between the angels had started in the Kingdom of Micalzo. Still, Dean had naively hoped nothing in his life would be touched by it.

He was wrong.

 

  

Dean woke up to the lapping of the waves and the soft back and forth motion cradling his bed. The smell of salt and a fresh breeze filled the air and Dean relished it while gathering his thoughts. He had no idea where he was, but his body felt too heavy and sore to move and find out. Dean tried to listen for any sign of movement around him, but none came.

Dean grunted and cautiously opened his eyes, waiting for his vision to adjust to the brightness in the room. The gleaming light coming through the single window washed the wooden surfaces with warm tones of yellows and oranges. There were two other beds on his left, neatly made and empty. A thick wooden door was on the wall opposite to the window, far from his bed, and Dean feared he wouldn’t be able to reach it without passing out on the floor head first. The rest of the room was simple, bare walls and little furniture; the only sign of human activity was the chaos of medicinal items displayed on several counters by the far wall. Then all the memories rushed back to him - how he had gotten hurt, the angel trying to kill them, his brother pulling him along until they reached the shore.

He didn’t remember getting here though; his last memory was of an old man rowing a decrepit boat while having a lively conversation with Sam. Dean had fallen back to sleep after that. They must have reached the ship while Dean was out.

Dean looked out the window. It was a beautiful day outside: it was calm and soothing, unlike most of his days in the land he had just left behind. There, the sunlight was always too faint to see above the thick layers of ash, dust and clay that filled the air. The absence of daylight had never been a problem back at Dean’s home, with its warm weather and prosperous lands.

Being away from home for so long, a whole ocean separating him from his loved ones, had been almost impossible to bear. He missed seeing their faces, though he worried they might not recognize the man he had become after three years on the front lines.

Dean fell back asleep to the calming sound of the ship cutting through the waves, away from the hell he was happy to leave behind. He couldn’t wait to get home.

 

  

The sound of steps approaching the door brought Dean out of his doze. A hesitant head peeked through.

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam barged in and sat at the end of Dean’s bed, a huge grin on his face. Dean flipped him the bird. “I’m glad that you’re back to your usual self.”

Sam went to one of the counters and poured a liquid with a repulsive shade of brown into a mug. “Here, drink this.” He helped Dean sit up against the headboard and settled the mug between Dean’s hands with a determined look.

“What is this? Looks disgusting,” Dean said, his voice raspy from disuse. He had a bitter taste in his mouth and his throat felt sore and dry, making it hard for him to resist this crappy-looking liquid being put in front of him.

“That’s an elixir I helped prepare. I’ve been giving it to you ever since we got here.”

“Umm? Don’t remember that.” He took a tentative gulp from the dreadful drink. The taste was even worse than its appearance.

“Yeah, that’s to be expected. This is the first time I’ve seen you completely conscious in days. It’s a great sign, means the treatment is working. Your wounds are healing.” Sam smiled wider.

“Whoa, hold on. Let’s backtrack for a moment. Days? How long have I been lying here?”

“It’s been four days, Dean.” Sam rubbed a hand over his stubble; he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while, and there were dark circles under his eyes. For all the positive attitude, he looked like crap.

“That long, huh?” Dean shouldn’t be that surprised, he knew he got hurt pretty badly, considering the excruciating pain he went through. He finished his drink with a grimace, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “So, I take it we made it to Benny’s ship?”

“Yes, we did! Welcome to _Santa Andrea_.” His brother nodded vigorously with a triumphant look. “Clive and I took your unconscious ass out of the boat and brought you here. You’re heavier than you look, man.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Bitch.”

“Jerk." Sam chuckled and continued, “You’re currently in the storage room they converted into an infirmary. I’ve been taking turns with the ship’s physician, Riggins, to take care of you. We’ve been sailing pretty quickly, the wind’s been with us and we’ve been able to keep up our speed so far. Benny says we’ll reach Pir in no time.” Sam was practically bouncing off the mattress by the time he was finished.

Dean closed his eyes. He still couldn’t believe he was on his way home. He inhaled deeply, expelling the air slowly, trying to regain his composure.

“So, now can you explain what happened back there? Why are you here, Sam?” Straight to the point – there was no use beating around the bush, Dean was too tired for that.

“Dean… I’m–”

“Don’t get me wrong, dude,” Dean cut him off. “I’m more than happy to leave that hell hole behind. But you know what happens to deserters. And you planned my escape. You’re going to be on their shit list too.”

Sam jerked out of the bed, crossing the room to stand by the window. “And how is that fair, when they put you there against your will?”

“And you think that matters to them? C’mon Sam, if they catch us…” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “They’re the shoot first, ask later kind! You know that.”

Dean looked up to the ceiling, his next words were painful to say. “You shouldn’t have come here.” His voice came out shaky and tiny and he drew in a long breath, forcing his emotions back under control.

His little brother held on to the window’s frame. “I know you’re mad at me,” he whispered. “And you have every right to be…”

“Sam…”

“No, listen to me. I need to explain.” Sam turned around – and in that instant they were kids again, and his little brother was terrified he had done anything that could disappoint the hero he looked up to so much.

Dean averted his eyes. He didn’t deserve that look. They weren’t kids anymore and Dean was as far from a hero as anyone could get. He was damaged goods now. No turning back from the monster he had become in that hell, where every glimmer of hope of being rescued by his family was lost and his demons had won.

Sam spoke again, pulling Dean out of his thoughts. “I didn’t know you were here until a month ago.” Dean’s eyes widened in shock. There was sadness in Sam’s face and he ran his fingers through his hair. “If I had known sooner, I would have come in a heartbeat.”

“You didn’t know I was here?” Dean swallowed the knot of emotions carved in his chest that he had long since learned to forget on the battlefield.

“Dad told me you had run away from home. That you told him you were going to start over someplace new.”

“And you believed him?! Don’t you know me at all, Sam? I would never disappear like that on you and Mom.” He clenched both hands into bone-crushing fists.

“I didn’t, at first. But then he showed me a letter from you. It had your handwriting, Dean.”

“But I never said…”

“I know. Dad didn’t show me the real letter. He made a fake one, with Michael’s help. It said you were leaving and that we shouldn’t look for you. He showed that letter to us and got rid of the real one.”

Dean exhaled deeply and collapsed against the pillow. After all this time, he had almost forgotten about the letter he had left in his brother’s bed. Dean had thought it was safe to leave it there for Sammy to read. He never imagined his father would get to it first and lie to his family about it. Dean had intended to leave home all right, but he’d never meant to go to war. He’d never meant to stay away from his brother for this long.

“And I looked for you at first, but I had no clue where you were, no hint about your location, so I waited for you, but you never came. Both Mom and I assumed what Dad had told us was the truth. We didn’t think he would lie about something this big. Until he decided to come clean and tell me the truth, about a month ago.”

Dean felt his blood boil, his heart beating furiously in his chest. “That son of a bitch!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, I know, I wanted to kill him too.” A faint smile reached the corner of Sam’s lips. “But listen, Dean, that’s not the only thing I wanted to talk to y– Whoa, whoa. Dean, where are you going?”

Dean wasn’t listening anymore. His own father was the one responsible for keeping his family away from him.

“You’re still too weak. Dean, just– just sit down.”

All these years, he thought they had turned their back on him. And his father was to blame.

“Just calm down–”

He was going to kill that son of a bitch.

“Dean!”

The world lost its focus; Dean’s knees gave out and he hit the ground. Sam was leaning over him, trying to get Dean to understand what he was saying, but he could barely make out his words. His brain felt fuzzy. He tried to get a grip on reality again but failed.

Next thing he knew, everything went black.

 

  

Dean’s eyes blinked open. “Ugh, no,” Dean groaned. “Please don’t tell me I fainted like a friggin’ damsel in distress.” His head was pounding and he was in dire need of a drink. _Or ten_.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m peachy,” Dean said and muffled a yawn, noticing his brother studying him. “Now quit looking at me like I’m dying, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re all right? Because what I said about Dad…” he insisted, his voice strained.

“Jeez, stop with the touchy-feely already. I said I’m fine and I don’t wanna talk about him anymore, okay?”

“But Dean…”

“Leave it, Sam.” Thankfully, his brother didn’t press the subject anymore.

Dean’s days passed in a blur after that. He was either sleeping, drinking Sam’s awful drink, or listening to his brother’s ramblings about how amazing a pirate’s life was and how fascinating the effort involved in keeping the ship working was. _It’s a Chain-Shot Dean, because the cannon balls are linked together by a chain. Dean, Dean, it’s called dog watch when it’s a short period of time, Dean are you listening?_

Dean wanted to die.

He eventually started eating like his usual self. His body was recovering pretty damn fast. The ship’s physician came to check up on him regularly – he would change Dean’s bandages, examine the wounds, make sure Dean was taking all the necessary meds and confirm if Dean was eating properly.

The days went by and Dean was almost healed by the time the second week rolled around.

The first day he was allowed to go outside, he felt every pore of his body swelling with freedom. It was as if he had been underwater for three long years – the pressure of the endless ocean all around him, compressing his chest, filling his lungs with nothing but water, making his skin cold and detached from the rest of the world. Now he had finally broken the surface to exhale once again and distend his lungs with precious air.

Dean occupied himself during the rest of his ride with getting to know the crew and all the different tasks each one of them had to perform. Sam was right, after all – a pirate’s life was not bad at all. There was a certain freedom to it. A freedom Dean craved for himself.

They hadn’t laid eyes on any more angels since they had left the Kingdom of Micalzo. Sam didn’t bring up the conversation they’d had in that first week and Dean had almost forgotten anything related to angels by the time they were getting close to Pir.

That, of course, ended when Benny started bragging about his conquests overseas.

“I be tellin’ ye mate. You need only to enchant ye way wit’ some o’ ye piracy adventures ‘n ‘tis easy to get a soft body to warm ye bed.”

They stood on the main deck, enjoying the quietness of the dark night and the full moon glistening against the pitch-black, clean sky. The stars were brighter than Dean was used to, out here, in the middle of the vast ocean, with no other source of light to diminish their radiance. He watched them dance in the moonlight.

“Ye should give it a go. ‘Tis a life that would fit ye. Lots o’ booze. Lots o’ ways o’ gettin’ ye groove on. Especially with that beard.”

They both laughed. Dean hadn’t shaved since he had boarded the ship. The beard had grown while he was sick and it kind of fit him and his new “angel’s most wanted” lifestyle, so Dean wasn’t bothering to shave it off. “I’ll think about it. Never could say no to a good lay.”

“Though I bet the life as a soldier is not half bad either when it comes to the ladies, huh?”

Dean forced a smile. For most of his first year as a soldier, he'd been too enthralled by the memory of bright blue eyes to even try. "I had my moments." Yeah, moments where he'd had to get so drunk he could barely remember his own name and ended up falling asleep on - or worse, throwing up on - his hookups before either of them could score. Moments that had ended with a hangover the size of a mushroom cloud and an unsatisfying follow-up session with his right hand.

To say Cas had screwed up his sex life was the understatement of the year. _Cas._ It had been a long time since Dean had let himself think about that name. When surrounded by bombs and death, it got easier to shut down the emotions he didn’t want to keep. But now, being closer and closer to his loved ones again, it got harder not to think about the one person to whom he had given himself completely.

And the one person who betrayed him the most.

The next morning hurled Dean out of his dreams with screams coming from outside. The quick steps of the crew passing through the infirmary’s door pulled Dean out of his bed and into the hall.

“What’s going on?" He grabbed one of the pirates - Mad Feet, that’s what they called him, because he could do all types of crazy spinning kicks – and pulled him aside by his upper arm.

“The radar detected an unknown object on a collision course with the ship,” he spat out between the gaps in his front teeth. The other crew members kept pushing him while racing past them and Dean cleaned up some of the spit that had hit his face.

“All right, where’s Benny?”

“Last time I saw th’ Captain, he was upstairs.”

Dean cut through the regiment of pirates heading to their designated stations to get ready for whatever was coming their way. When he got to the main deck, Benny was there, as well as several other men. He was just standing there, not moving.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m waiting for a sign.” Benny watched the sky intently. Dean took a few hesitant steps and looked up as well. Above them everything was perfectly peaceful - a wide blanket of blue covered the skies, a few white puffy clouds could be seen, but nothing else captured his attention.

“Of what?”

As if to answer Dean, a strong wind buffeted the ship and almost knocked him off his feet. He caught his balance after a couple of stumbling steps and looked up again.

A massive swirl of clouds expanded at an alarming speed. The sun was gone all of a sudden and the once-blue sky was covered in a blanket of dark gray. The wind had become so strong, Dean feared they would get thrown overboard at any second.

“Angels are here! You should go. Hide. Quickly!”

Dean didn’t have time to react because next thing he knew, an angel was descending from the skies at a crushing speed. He kept his free-fall with an immense velocity and Dean thought he was going to rip through the middle of the ship and fracture it in two. But suddenly the angel stopped, mere inches away from the ship’s floor, the force of the air moving around him and shaking the ship violently.

Thunder roared above as the lightning illuminated the angel from behind, and the sight before Dean was impressive and terrifying all at once.

The angel’s green eyes pierced right through Dean’s own. “I told you I was going to capture you, Winchester.” A malicious smile twisted his face. He lifted his head and took in the weather for a moment, looking in pride at his own creation. "Beautiful day, isn’t it?” He approached the rest of the crew, acknowledging their presence for the first time. “Though it would be a shame if, say, some big bad lightning happened to wreck your little boat.”

“All right, first, ‘tis is a ship, not a boat. And, whoever ye are, ye have no authority here.” Benny seemed surprisingly calm.

“Oh, yes. Please excuse my manners, I’m Barachiel. I have no quarrel with you and I do not intend to harm you.” He paused, more lightning shook the air around them, and the thunder that came with it made Dean tremble to the core. “...but I will, if I must.”

A bulky hand touched Dean’s shoulder and he almost jumped out of his skin. “Jeez, Sam, a little warning next time before almost scaring me to death.”

Sam adjusted his backpack and the sword on his hip. “Shhh.” With one finger against his lips, Sam motioned Dean to change their positions, until they were below _Santa Andrea_ ’s shadows, hidden from the line of sight.

“We need to go, Dean. Right now!”

He started backtracking, but Dean stopped him. “We can’t leave them with the _Freakchiel_ over there. Besides, maybe you didn’t notice, but we’re in the middle of freaking nowhere.”

“You heard him, he wants us. The guy will leave them alone once we’re gone. Besides, if you hadn’t been asleep like a damn grandpa, you would have heard Benny announcing we’re close to the shore.” Sam, the smug asshole, actually seemed pleased with the look of disbelief on Dean’s face.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Barachiel roared. “And, I assure you, I won’t let you make it to land. But you can try.”

Dean turned to face the crowd. The damn feathers had his eyes on him again.

“So,” the angel proceeded, addressing the rest of the crew. “Are you going to step aside, or do I have to force you? You decide. Either way, I’m taking the Winchesters with me.”

The rain was pouring down now, the thick droplets soaking Dean to the bone and if his shivers were from more than just the cold, he would never admit it out loud. “C’mon, dude. If you wanna take me home with you, you need to buy me dinner first.”

Barachiel closed his eyes shut. When he looked at them again, his eyes flashed bright yellow for a moment before reverting to their usual state. “All right, Winchesters, I’m done playing with you. Time is up.”

A sphere of yellow energy started pulsing in one of his hands as he pointed it towards Dean and the rest of the men. He unfolded his white wings and stretched them out to their full length, taking three confident steps and reducing the distance between men and angel.

Dean squared his shoulders against the cold shiver running down his spine as the angel advanced again, calmly and slowly, each step more confident than the one before, as if Barachiel was sure Dean had nowhere to go. Maybe he was right.

Dean started making peace with the fact that he was never going to go home. He was so close now, and that fact crushed him even more. If he closed his eyes he could almost scent the fresh homemade pie his mother used to bake, or the sharp and bitter smell of metal during a day’s work at Bobby’s forge. The charming woods, with their wildflowers, native trees and gentle animal prints left in the snow during the winter. Memories still so vivid in his mind, it made him ache.

“You need to go now, Sam,” he whispered.

“What?”

“You have a better chance of escaping if you’re on your own. You wouldn’t even be in this mess if it wasn’t for me. Go, quickly, while I distract him.”

Dean didn’t give his brother time to reply. Before he could protest, Dean grabbed Sam’s sword and headed towards the angel’s direction.

“Hey, dickhead, try playing with this.” Dean lunged, aiming for Barachiel’s torso, but the angel dodged away easily and Dean turned around in a full circle to face his opponent again. Barachiel glanced at him, giving him a mocking grin. Dean took a position and leaped forward – he wanted to carve that smile off the angel’s face.

The bastard dodged again, moving faster than Dean could blink. But if there was one thing the war had taught him, was how to fight an angel. Before Barachiel could move away again, he swung the claymore to the left, slashing one of his wings. Blood spilled extensively from the cut, soaking his white wings with red.

“Ahhh! You filthy human―” Before he could finish, Dean attacked again. This time, the angel lifted his hand, and Dean barely missed the explosion of grace by ducking his head and using the sword as a shield. Strings of light twisted together around the sword, melting the blade like butter.

Dean dropped what was left of Sam’s sword on the floor when the incandescent hilt started to burn his palms. _Damn_. He should have known better than to block with a claymore. It was an amazing weapon, he couldn’t deny that – elegant and proper for a knight, just Sam’s type. But Dean needed a stronger sword, with a robust blade and a broad hilt that sank heavily in his grip. He needed his Leviathan – his own sword would certainly last longer than Sammy’s fancy one.

From the corner of his eye, Dean could see Benny murmuring something to Sam while exchanging signals with the crew. If they were going to do something, they had to be fast, because he was running out of ideas on how to whoop this idiot’s ass.

Just as Dean was about to make his next move, the angel crossed the space between them, blocking one of Dean’s punches. He blocked the next one as well, and then landed one of his own. Dean doubled over in pain because goddamn, the angel had one hell of a right hook.

Barachiel lifted him off the ground by his neck. Dean clutched at the angel’s wrists, trying to prevent him from squeezing his throat. His free hand clasped behind his back for the small dagger he always carried with him. In a flowing motion he sank the dagger deep in the fucker’s neck. Barachiel howled and threw Dean across the floor.

In the exact moment that Dean’s back slammed against the wooden deck, all hell broke loose. Benny yelled as the other pirates moved fast. The clank of a big engine getting activated filled Dean’s ears, as a wide metal net plunged right above Barachiel’s position, trapping him beneath it. The strong hold of the net caged his wide wings inside, eliciting a sound of distress from the angel who crumpled to the floor with a resonating clang.

Dean watched everything from his perspective on the floor. Benny continued to give orders as his crew ran around in a frenzy, rushing to overcome the angel who was at that moment trying to get free from the net.

His brother crouched at his side and held out a hand to help Dean to his feet. Sam took a few quick gulps of air and yelled, trying to make Dean hear him above the noise, but he stopped his attempts when a blinding fork of lightning hit the ship, snapping the deck in half.

“ _Shit,_ ” Dean hissed.

“You’re all going to regret this,” the angel barked as more lightning broke from the sky. Another few twists and he broke free. He was about to attack again when Mad Feet jumped on his back. Barachiel furiously flapped his white wings, elevating them both through the air. That’s when Dean saw it, the small rounded glass container that he recognized right away.

“No!” Came from his left side, as Mad Feet removed the safety pin and both man and angel exploded in the sky.

There was no trace of the man consumed by the flames and Barachiel’s body pierced right into the ocean, heavy muscles and solid bones forcing their way like a rock into the deep dark blue. Dean knew he wasn’t dead. Angel mojo and angel blades were the only things that could kill an angel – anything besides that could only slow them down. But still the situation had just improved considerably for the two brothers, thanks to that man’s bravery. No one dared to move or say anything for a minute.

Remains of ashes and feathers floated through the air, smudging the light in their path and making everyone’s lips sore with bitter taste. Dean closed his eyes as a cold shiver ran down his spine and for a brief moment he was back at Micalzo, under dim skies full of screams. Ashes, dust and clay fell heavily around him, over a sheet of blood-red and faces twisted in fear. Dean squared his shoulders and got ready to kill or be killed. _That’s how you survive war, he had been told on his first day. Learn these words. Repeat them every morning and each night before sleep. No hesitation. No pain. Never stop. Always ready to kill._

A warm breeze bristled the hair on the nape of his neck and Dean snapped his eyes open. _No._ He let out a harsh and tremulous breath. He had escaped that hell. His brother had come for him. Dean wasn’t there anymore.

“C’mon, we need to leave. The ship is gonna sink,” Dean urged Benny and the rest of the crew to move.

The time between gathering what they could and making it to the safe boats passed in a blur and the bitter taste only grew stronger as Dean watched _Santa Andrea_ sinking. Guilt and regret filled his veins at the sight and he looked away when the heavy ocean’s waves sucked down the last piece of dark wood. Dean squeezed his eyes shut; he ruined these men’s lives. This was their home, packed with memories and blood and survivors. And now, because of Dean, they had lost everything.

Once they got to the shore he found Benny among the crew, but when he tried to apologize, his throat was too tight to let any sound out. The captain didn’t want to hear him, though. “I knew t’ risk we were takin’,” he said, looking around. “We all knew. ‘n that’s what brothers do, we look out for each other, right?”

Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that yet again he had ruined another person’s life. He wanted to scream until Benny understood what a fuck-up he was and had his face beaten into a bloody pulp, and his ass delivered back to the angels. But what use could Dean be in that state? He had to keep his head straight, so he canned it and buried those thoughts in the darker corner of his mind, right next to all his other fucked up feelings.

Time flew by after that. Benny insisted that Sam and Dean should leave now that they had reached the land. Dean wanted to stay – he needed to make sure everyone was going to be all right. He had to compensate for all the damage he had brought into these people’s lives. But both Sam and Benny were adamant that it was safer for everyone if they were gone by the time Barachiel was awake again, or another angel showed up searching for them.

So they left, with a few hugs and a couple of words of thank you and goodbye. Dean felt like shit. But he understood that he would only put them at risk if he stayed. More importantly, he would put Sam at risk. And his brother would always come first.

As they walked, the dotted shores of infinite golden and hazel grains washed away beneath the greens and browns of the forest. There were flowers of all different shapes and colors, blooming and alive, to welcome the beginning of spring and the arrival of much warmer and sunnier days. Dean had to stop for a moment, adjusting the strap of his heavy bag on his shoulder as an excuse to stay in that spot for a little longer, listening to the birds’ songs, many of which he knew by heart. _This is it,_  Dean realized. After three years away from home and his loved ones, he had finally returned to his kingdom. Only a few more hours and he would be home.

Dean opened his eyes and looked up; the light was bright and just as magical as when he used to play in the woods when he was a kid. He fought back the tears that were making their way out and felt a tiny flame of hope stirring inside him, making the sore feeling in the pit of his gut easier to bear.


	2. Chapter 2

** Present day **

They walked for longer than Dean cared to keep track of. The journey was long and tedious, but they didn’t stop. They trudged straight ahead in silence as the lush woodland caged them beneath its branches and away from the light. They stopped occasionally for small breaks to rest, get hydrated and fed. Dusk was falling briskly by the time they decided to set up camp, gather wood and start up a fire to protect them from the cold night ahead. Dean sat down when everything was ready, taking some comfort in the heat emanating from the searing flames.

“We probably have another half a day of walking before we reach Rufus’ house.” Sam was the first one to speak since they had left Benny and his crew. “Our wagon is hidden there. After that point, it’s better if I drive the wagon while you keep hidden. That way if someone recognizes me, they won’t see you.

“Sounds good to me,” Dean muttered. Rufus Turner was an old friend of Bobby’s. They used to hunt game together, along with Bill Harvelle and their father, until one hunt went terribly wrong and Bill died. Jo was left without a father and the men never hunted together again. Rufus had lived outside the city’s borders ever since.

Dean remembered watching Ellen and Jo trying to get by, one day after the other, with changed smiles on their faces, too empty to fully reach the corner of their eyes. Dean used to catch them by surprise with stolen kisses on the side of their heads or on the top of their foreheads, until he was rewarded with a smile… or an amused shove. Either way, Dean took it as his mission to put the light back on their faces again. But old wounds were never easy to heal, and each time Dean watched himself in the mirror nowadays, he was reminded exactly what it meant to have a broken smile.

He stared down at the amber and ruby flames dancing around the oak branches. The crackling sounds coming from the wood being consumed somehow soothed Dean’s thoughts. He had so many questions. But after three years, where should he even begin? “How’s Mom?” Dean tried his best to control his voice, not taking his eyes from the fire.

“Mom is good. She misses you,” Sammy replied quietly. “After, you know, everything that happened with Dad, she left him.”

Dean looked up sharply. “What?”

“She couldn’t forgive what he did. None of us could.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “When she found out what he and Michael had done to you, it broke her. She made him leave then. He’s been living in Bobby’s spare bedroom ever since.” Sam leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “Dean…” he paused for a moment and Dean could sense that his brother was gathering his courage to continue. “There’s something else you need to kn—”

“Save it, Sam. I don’t wanna know. There’s nothing you can s—”

“Dad is dying!”

Dean felt his eyes widening, but he forced his lips into a thin line and turned to the flames again. He didn’t know what to say to that. Nothing could excuse what his own father had done to him. But how could he be indifferent to that? The man had raised him, after all.

“That’s why he came forward and told us the truth, you know? He says he wants to make it right by you before he leaves, or some crap like that.” His little brother cleared his throat before continuing. “He didn’t give me details. I was too pissed off to give him that chance. But he wants to talk to you, to tell you his side of what happened that day.”

Dean shook his head and got up, encircling the limits lit by the fire. It was too dark to make out the trees beyond the red luminosity. He looked up, trying to see the moon, trying to take his mind off of what Sam had just told him. No luck though. The thick branches covered the night’s sky, leaving them behind in a dark confinement.

“I… I don’t know, Sammy.”

“I get it, Dean, I do. I didn’t wanna talk with him either. But I think it would be good for you to know what happened back then. So even if you don’t do it for him… I think you should do it for yourself.” Sam was watching him with hopeful eyes, the ones Dean could never refuse. He was waiting for an answer, Dean knew that, but he couldn’t give him one right now.

“I’ll think about it,” was all he could muster before looking back at his brother with a forced smile. “Now can you shut up and let me rest, for fuck’s sake?” That was, apparently, all the answer Sam needed, if the vigorous nod and easy grin were anything to go by.

The rest of the night was restless. Dean couldn’t stop thinking about how two of the most important people in his life had betrayed him in a single day. But that had always been Dean Winchester’s life in a nutshell, one fucked up thing after the other; it was a wonder he wasn’t used to it by now.

Dean adjusted his bag-turned-pillow under his head and clenched his eyes shut. Sleep never came easy to him, most times he would stay up all night with his demons keeping him company. Dean was shoved headfirst into a war that was never meant for him, and even though humans weren’t supposed to be forced to join the battlefield, Dean was never granted that choice. On one fateful day, every goddamned thing he cared about was stolen from him and the angels took him away from his home against his will. Dean passed the next three years of his life fighting in the god-forsaken battleground of a war that held no meaning to him, in a kingdom where he didn't belong.

Dean learned to fight for every single breath that left his lungs and he made damned sure he did one hell of a job at it. For every angel down, around twenty more humans got killed in the process, and at the end of each battle, Dean used to stand still for a while, questioning his own luck when corpses, torn off body parts and guts turned inside out covered the ground, while the smell of burned flesh hung heavy in the air around him. With each day he survived, Dean would curse the world for letting him live, like a prayer he kept to himself.

Being angry was easy, being hopeless wasn’t as easy to achieve. Hope is a treacherous feeling that holds on to your heart and doesn’t let it beat without washing all of your arteries and every piece of your body with faith that things will turn out all right.

So Dean had hoped. He had hoped someone would come for him, Dean had been so damn sure that his baby brother would find a way to contact him. A letter, some kind of news, anything. But after three years of no communication whatsoever, he was certain his brother had abandoned him as well. As time passed, there was no sense in holding on to hope and he happily gave it up with the rest of his feelings.

Which was why, on such an ordinary day like so many others, it came as a shock when he looked up to see his little brother on the other side of his camp, still so damn tall and with eyes so full of hope that Dean had felt his heart ache for the first time in years. They had to act like they didn’t know each other. Sammy delivered a Discharge Permit to the Official in charge and they had no choice but to let Dean go when they saw it was signed by Michael. Dean’s shock got even bigger when he heard that angel’s name.

Dean got away, the fake permit had fooled them, but that didn’t last long. They were just a few miles away from camp when that damn angel, Barachiel, had showed up to take him back.

They hadn’t stopped running since.

“Hey, let’s go.” Dean was unceremoniously awakened with a jab at his leg while his little brother moved around him to gather their stuff. “We need to keep moving, Dean.”

“’m coming.” Dean yawned and tried to ignore the cold sweat covering his skin. The nightmares were as much a part of his sleep now as the iron clench around his chest and the tension in his muscles that never seemed to fade whenever he was awake. He never talked about it, but they were always there, in the dark corner of his mind as a constant reminder of everything he had lost.

Dean swallowed thickly and forced away the images burnt on the inside of his eyelids. A warm spring day had greeted them this morning, with colorful blossoms and sweet smells bursting with life under the cheerful sunlight. They kept going for a long time before the first signs of civilization appeared. They were mostly silent at first, but Dean was too eager to know more about their old friends and soon they were immersed in a vivid conversation.

Sam, as it turned out, was just as excited as Dean to update him on everything. _Bobby is the same grumpy old man you knew, you didn’t miss much there. Ellen and Jo are fine, Dean. Charlie is living with her girlfriend. No, I don’t think you know her yet. You will love her._  Dean was half smiling before he could help it, a foreign gesture to his face after years of not having that many reasons to do so.

They reached Rufus’ house by the end of the day. It was a simple, two-story house, changing from the white clay material to the dark wooden frame and a thatched roof. It was simple indeed, but cozy. Dean liked cozy. The dappled gray smoke coming out of the chimney welcomed their approach with the promise of delicious food, if the smell filling his nose and making his mouth water was anything to go by.

The distant sound of hooves against gravel turned Dean’s attention to the barn on the far left side of the house – probably where Rufus was keeping their wagon. Before he could dwell on that too much, the worn-out front door creaked open to reveal a tall black man in a thin caramel-brown tunic and faded black pants.

“Sam.” Rufus greeted the tallest brother with a nod before returning his attention to Dean. “Dean, it’s good to see you, son. Welcome back.” Rufus extended his hand to give him a strong handshake, lingering in his hold for a moment before letting go. “Please come on in. You must be starving after such a long trip.”

“We ate on the road. But from the smell coming out of your house, I could eat a whole pan of whatever you’re cooking.”

Rufus laughed while Sam nudged Dean with his elbow in response.

“What?! He offered,” Dean mumbled.

Sam just rolled his eyes and entered the house after Rufus; the old wooden boards shifted loudly against each other under their weight, as they made it into the main room. Dean and his brother sat at the dining table, while Rufus brought them the stew pot from the kitchen’s counter on the opposite wall and sat at the empty chair in front of Dean.

Dean looked around, recognizing the old pale walls, the coffee table where Rufus and their father used to spread out their weapons to clean them after another hunt. Dean would join them after his father had told him he was old enough to do it and being a man meant knowing his way around weapons. The house wasn’t big: besides the main room, there was a small bedroom where Sam and Dean would spend the night, along with a bathroom. On the second floor was Rufus’ bedroom and his workshop.

The dinner was delicious as Dean predicted. He didn’t eat the whole pot, but he got close to it. While he was occupied satisfying his stomach, Sam brought Rufus up to date with their adventures in the last few weeks. Everything from how they had escaped from Micalzo’s war camp, to their weeks aboard _Santa Andrea._

“Goddammit, boys. That’s all ‘cause of those fucking angels. I knew I had a reason not to like those winged nutbags.” He paused and looked intently at Dean, making him freeze with his hand midway between his plate and his mouth.

“How was it back there? The front lines?”

And just like that Dean lost his appetite. _Freaking swell._

“There’s not much to say.” He rubbed the nape of his neck before continuing. “It was hard at first. Seeing everyone you know dying around you.” Dean remembered entering the river next to his camp after his first day of battle, the water turning red as he slowly removed his clothes, furiously rubbing his skin raw and blood free, and long after the water had gone translucent again and his skin had started hurting, he hadn’t stopped scrubbing. Dean had cried himself to sleep that night and the ones that followed it. At some point though, he stopped. “With time… you just don’t care anymore, you just keep fighting.”

Sam squeezed his shoulder and that was when Dean realized he was shaking. Dean released an unsteady breath and glanced at his brother – who was looking pale as a ghost at that point – before staring down at his forgotten plate.

 “How do you kill them? The angels,” Rufus said, breaking the silence.

“You don’t,” Dean grunted. “You can only slow them down long enough for the angels on your team to come and kill them. Either that or you use an angel blade. But those are hard to come by.”

“Jeez,” Rufus muttered. “I never… I didn’t know you were out there boy, your father told me you had run off. I didn’t know…” He shifted in his seat and leaned forward.

“It’s okay. It’s no one’s fault that our dad is a douche.” Dean tried to smile, without much success.

“I don’t understand why he would do such a thing?” Rufus shot a quick glance at his brother who had his lips set in a grim line and a knowing look in his eyes.

Dean had a few guesses for why his father had done what he did, but he would rather not think about that. “You’re gonna have to ask him that.”

“Yeah…” was the only reply Dean got.

Sam cleared his throat before speaking up again. “Anyway.” He got up before tucking his hair behind his ears. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be checking on how Chevro is doing?”

“Baby is here?” Dean almost fell off his chair with how quickly he jerked his head in Sammy’s direction.

“Yeah, Dean, didn’t I tell you I left the wagon here? That usually involves horses, you know,” Sam smirked, “or were you planning on pulling the wagon yourself?” The damn bastard actually chuckled at that.

“Yeah, very clever, smart ass. But you never told me one of those horses was my Chevro.” Dean got up and made his way to the door as fast as he could. Whatever Sam had to reply to that, Dean never got to hear. He couldn’t wait to see his baby, his beautiful black mustang mare.

She was offered to his father when Dean was still a boy. But, because she was a girl, his father didn’t want her. “Too much trouble. Females are too temperamental to be tamed.” His father had told him one day, so he gave the mare to Dean. Dean couldn’t have been happier. She was a beauty. He didn’t want her to be tamed, he wanted her to be her – all wild and spirited, with the right amount of heart and grace.

Dean yanked open the barn doors and rushed in. “Chevro?” Almost immediately, Dean was greeted by nickering he would recognize anywhere. _His Baby._  There she was, at the far end stall, pawing with her front feet, pacing from one side to the other. Dean ran the rest of the way and swung open the stall’s gate.

“Hey, Baby.” He didn’t waste any time hugging his dear horse. He had missed her terribly. Chevro calmed down as soon as he wrapped his arms around her and started emitting small, soft noises of contentment.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you.” He tightened his hug and as if replying, she started nibbling at his hair. “Hey, hey, knock it off.” He pulled away from her powerful teeth and couldn’t help but smile as he leaned his forehead against her own and closed his eyes. “I missed you, girl.”

Dean stayed for about an hour with Chevro. Bathing and grooming her, changing the water and feeding the mare. He did the same with Sam’s horse and by the time he was done and back in the house, the other two men had gone to bed. When he made it to the mattress in his temporary room, a small part of him was feeling better. He fell asleep with a subtle smile on his lips.

Early in the morning, they said goodbye to Rufus and prepared the horses for the rest of the journey they still had to make before reaching the city’s walls, which they were hoping to achieve by lunch time.

“How do you know they’re gonna let you in, just like that, with a covered wagon full of shit?” Dean patted his girl one last time before going to the back of the wagon.

“It’s not _shit_ , Dean. These are supplies. For my work. I have to get supplies every now and then. The guards are used to it by now. I have one hundred percent permission to go get more supplies when I need it.”

They removed some of the boxes from the wagon to get enough space for Dean to hide. Once he was installed, Sam packed the boxes back in so that Dean wouldn’t be visible to any prying eyes. He sat down and got himself comfortable as best as he could in such a cramped space, while Sam took the driver’s seat and incited the horses to start moving.

The drive was slow and shaky along the bumpy dirt road. Dean was growing more and more desperate to get home with each hour that passed, but despite everything, for the first time in a long time, he was feeling hopeful. With Chevro leading the way home, riding alongside Sammy, who seemed to be pretty joyful as well, humming along to an imaginary song in his own head.

Of course that it would be too much to ask that his brother would let that moment last for long. “You know, you asked me about everyone…” came Sam’s voice from the outside. “Except for Cas.”

_Damn it._

“If I wanted to know something, I would have asked. But I didn’t and I don’t,” Dean barked.

“But…”

“Sam, please, just,” Dean sighed long and slowly, “leave it be, okay?”

Sam didn’t reply in agreement, but didn’t insist either, which was a victory in Dean’s book. Dean slumped against the wooden wall and rested his head on the hard surface. He squeezed his green eyes shut, in a vain attempt to ward off flashes of blue and silver from filling his mind.

Dean should know better though. The past was in the past, right up until all the memories poured back in again full force, burning like poison he couldn’t get out of his system.

Eventually he gave up and let himself dream of blue eyes and wings as dark as the midnight sky.

 

  

** Four years ago **

It was a calm and warm night in late summer, and Dean was done for the day. It had been a busy one at work - more and more clients had been stopping by Bobby’s forge ever since the news got out about the imminent war between Michael and Lucifer. People came from all around the kingdom to request their services, having heard of their work with special and rare materials.

It was all hands on deck and most nights Dean, Charlie and Bobby wouldn’t even go home, staying through the night to forge any kind of weapons requested from them – a custom-made voulge, an adamant shield, a long-sword made of orichalcum. For the right price, Bobby’s providers could get anything.

It was a good time to be a blacksmith, their sales had never been higher, and yet, neither of them felt like celebrating. Bobby’s forge was crowded with wide eyes, chewed fingernails, voices breaking and hands trembling. It was impossible to ignore the sense of dread clouding everyone’s lives and the awareness, the fear of inevitability hovering in the air all around the city.

Dean could sense how close to war they were and couldn’t shake the feeling that, no matter what, they couldn’t run from it. It was coming right up to their front steps and Dean didn’t know what he would do when that eventually happened. It was hard to go on, day by day, with that sour omen gnawing in the core of his bones and watching everyone feeling the same way - the look on his little brother’s eyes, the same one his family wore. The same one he could see mirrored in his friends’ eyes.

Dean enjoyed being left alone with his thoughts at times like this. Most nights he would focus on his own footsteps and ignore his concerns, or he would flirt with whatever hot chick or guy happened to be strolling by.

Tonight the air was serene with a promise of peaceful days to come. Dean always loved this time of the day, when the twilight sky would fade from its red and yellow shades into cooler and softer tones of lavender and dark blue. When the city would go to sleep and the clang of metal on metal would die down to reveal the soft buzz of night insects or the dull rustling from the last merchants leaving the Smnad Market in the town’s east main square.

Dean turned around one of the last corners leading to his home. He knew every street by heart; Dean had repeated this same path between work and home almost every day since he was old enough to work. Most windows were closed at this time of day, the only visible light coming from the distant stars and the angel light sources that were used to illuminate the town at night. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t see the four men blocking his way, moving one after the other to complete a full circle with Dean in the middle. _Well shit._

“Hello there,” came the voice from the tall and pale man standing in front of him. His wavy, dull blonde hair contrasted with his large dark brown eyes that rumpled with his malicious smile.

“Hey, what can I do for you?” Dean knew exactly what these guys wanted, and the outcome of this would not be a happy one. For them at least.

“You’re Dean Winchester right?” spoke one of the other men, he looked younger, probably Sam’s age. “I bet you have some of those fancy weapons you make, clanging around in that bag of yours.”

“Yeah, think again, chuckles.” Dean adjusted the strap from his backpack and clenched the sword on his hip with his free hand. “I don’t usually take my weapons for a walk. They don’t like the night breeze. Too bad, better luck next time.”

Dean broke the eye contact and barged ahead, trying to cut through the men’s barricade. He didn’t go far, the first man grabbed Dean’s arm, his strong grasp and broad shoulders blocking Dean’s way. “We could always make you give us that bag.”

“You could try.” Dean held the man’s gaze, whose breath engulfed Dean in a fetid odor that made his eyes sting.

A third guy with sharp features and disheveled hair that shone with grease stepped in. “Listen pal, I’m sure you have something of value with you. Some of those rare weapons you make in that forge.” The man got closer, his grating voice made the muscles of Dean’s jaw clench. “Just give us the bag and that sword of yours and we won’t hurt you.”

The fact that Dean was actually telling the truth about his bag wouldn’t help him with these assholes, he was sure they knew they could make a pretty good deal with Dean’s sword in the black market. It was reckless trying to fight four men on his own, and as much as Dean considered himself a tough fighter, the odds were against him this time. But Dean’s life was made of poor choices and crappy decisions and besides, his Leviathan was his most treasured possession along with his baby. His little brother had given him this sword as a gift, paid with Sam’s own money and created with Bobby’s skillful hands. He couldn’t let go of such a thing.

“Yeah, well, no can do.” Dean lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m busy tonight. Sorry, ladies.”

“Wrong answer.” The man took the last step separating them and Dean’s left hook crushed the man’s face before he could even react. A second guy tried to restrain him from behind and just as Dean turned to get free from the man’s arm, a metal bar smashed against the side of his skull. Blood gushed out in a stream as he stumbled and collapsed against the cold, hard ground.

His head was spinning and the four men took turns punching and kicking him. The metallic smell of blood invaded his nose; slowly the world came in and out of focus and Dean could barely concentrate to defend himself. His arm was pinned behind his back with one of the men’s knees – Dean tried to break free, but the weight on his back kept him compressed to the ground.

“You should have said yes,” the man growled in his ear and pushed his weight even harder against his pinned arm, making his shoulder immediately flare with pain. Dean couldn’t hear the rest of what the man said as ripples of agony jolted from his left shoulder and a moan of pain left his lips.

“I’m gonna enjoy making you scream, you littl—” The rest of the words were stolen from the man’s lungs as the weight on top of Dean was yanked away and the man went flying across the street, to smash against the nearest wall, blacking out.

Dean couldn’t see much with his face flattened against the ground. He gasped sharply and slowly moved his arm into a more comfortable position. Howls of pain echoed throughout the street in between explosions of blue and silver light.

The blinding lights burned through Dean’s sealed eyes, and he should have felt terrified of the power behind them, but instead a strange serenity and peacefulness soothed his body. This strange contrast between the extreme agony he was feeling and the reassuring brightness sedating him seemed quite absurd. Perhaps he was dreaming. Maybe the pain was too much for his brain to process and it had shut down in an attempt to magically reset the last ten minutes.

Dean opened his eyes, blinking several times as one of his attackers fell right in front of him. Dead. Whatever was going on, he had to get the fuck out of there. Fast. But first, he had to move. He hissed through clenched teeth and rolled until he was on his back as the clash of steel against steel kept ringing threateningly down the street.

Dean gathered all his energy and hauled himself up into a sitting position, gazing up at the men fighting in the center of the street – two of his aggressors against another human. _No._ Not human. An Angel. _Great_. Just the cherry on top. He had to get out of there before the three were done fighting each other.

Dean slowly began to make his way around the pool of blood drenching the asphalt next to the body of his assailant. He grunted and desperately dragged himself backwards along the dirty ground. Using the last of his strength, he pushed himself into the far wall and tried to sit up, but the sharp pain forced him to lie back down.

His whole body was shaking feverishly and Dean gave it one more try, managing to press his back against the wall. He inhaled deeply and tried to gather his thoughts and assess the extent of his bruises. His left arm was probably broken, judging by the crippling pain that only seemed to be worsening by the second, and he probably had a concussion to pile on his case.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and released a shaky breath, forcing his eyes open to take in his surroundings. That’s when he noticed - a pair of black-feathered wings, as pure as the midnight darkness, spread widely in front of him. He had never seen black wings before. All the angels he knew had white wings like porcelain. These were… beautiful.

The tall figure had his back turned to him, the massive wings blocking out the light. He was gripping a long and slender sword, the silver blade glinting beneath the light. One of the other two men was badly injured. A deep laceration spread across his chest. Thick, crimson blood dripped to the ground. The man stepped back, his lips set in a grim line, then he stumbled and fell hard onto his knees. A pained scream tore from his mouth before he fell forward and banged his head hard on the ground.

In a split second the angel attacked again. He lunged swiftly, swinging his sword in the direction of the remaining man, who managed to escape the sharp blade. With a sudden spin, the angel turned to face his opponent again and Dean saw the angel’s face for the first time. Dean forgot what he was doing as the air stilled and everything went quiet for a moment; he remained frozen in place, glued to the wall, barely able to feel his heart beating against his chest.

Dean was expecting some kind of deranged guy, with ruthless features and rough edges. Instead, he found himself gazing into piercing, doe-like eyes, the color of sea, with full plump lips and strong cheekbones.

“You’re gonna regret this, you motherfucker,” the man snarled, but his voice sounded distant to Dean as he watched, transfixed by that bright blue. Dean’s eyes had grown heavy-lidded, he could feel the blood running down his hair to cover his forehead in a thin sheen, but he didn’t care anymore. At least, the pain invading his body just moments ago had dissipated by the time the blue-eyed angel raised his hand towards the man.

The angel’s calm expression never left his face as a ball-shaped light of silver and blue grace came into existence before his palm and illuminated his face. He remained still. Waiting. Perfect posture, left arm in front of him, all five fingers stretched, palm facing the other man.

Then time came back to its tracks. The guy lifted his sword and charged.

A single word left the angel’s lips. “No.” His eyes turned blindingly bright and without another warning the air around the angel exploded. Dean instinctively closed his eyes, the radiant light searing through his eyelids making him shelter his face with his good arm. Everything turned blue and silver with forceful vibrations, shattered glass and unknown objects cracking all around. Then everything went dark.

Dean’s breath was fast and shallow, and he had curled around himself without even noticing. He slowly got up and held his broken arm close to his body.

A thin layer of ashes covered the street. Glass, wood, metal and other wreckage had been scattered around with the force of the blast. The smell of burned flesh invaded Dean’s senses and he looked ahead to see the bodies of his attackers lying on the ground, completely burned. The only two things that seemed to have escaped the destruction were Dean and the wisteria tree in the center of the street.

"Tree isn’t the most appropriate term, you know?” The gravelly voice took him by surprise and Dean looked up to the mysterious stranger tilting his head at him. “The wisteria’s branches are rather a tangle of thick vines.”

“Umm, good to know, smarty pants.”

“My pants aren’t…”

Dean lifted his brows. The angel sounded confused for a moment, before he turned his attention to his task once again. He stepped closer to the tree and examined the only branch affected during the fight.

He lifted a careful hand to the tree, fingers brushing the surface faintly. A glimmer of light appeared in his hand and the tree started to glow around the broken branch, the crack narrowing and getting smaller and smaller. The wood got restored, inch by inch, glowing all the way through. The tree was once again whole, no trace of the large fissure that was, just a few moments before, separating the large branch from the rest of the tree.

 

 

Dean was mesmerized, the moment too extraordinary to be real. Perhaps he had fainted along the way after all and was actually dreaming this bizarre scenario. He was used to angels, yeah, he had contacted a few during his life, he was aware of their magical freaky stuff. He wasn’t familiar, however, with this kind of demonstration of tenderness. Dean wasn’t used to angels getting themselves involved in humans’ fights. He wasn’t used to an angel getting involved to help _him_.

“There you go, little one. Sorry about that,” the angel spoke again and the furrow in his brow disappeared as his lips curled up slightly. He turned away and faced Dean completely for the first time.

Dean swallowed hard and let himself contemplate the angel’s features. He had dark hair, all ruffled into different directions, that framed his light skinned face and contrasted perfectly with a long hooded cloak made of a color Dean had never seen anyone wearing before. It was icy blue velvet, with a soft silver shimmer that rippled across the material as the angel walked toward Dean.

“Can I see your shoulder? I may be able to fix it.”

A strange calmness washed over Dean. He had heard about this feeling before, those final moments where people were supposed to fight, to keep holding on to that fragile string of adrenaline, but instead all they felt was peace and surrender. He wasn’t naive. Dean was not entirely convinced he was safe around this angel. At any point, he could just use his mambo mojo to blow him to hell. But he couldn’t help trusting the guy a little. After all, thanks to him, he had a broken arm and a cracked head, but he was still breathing. That was a win in Dean’s book.

Apparently, this guy also had no sense of boundaries or personal space, because he was raising his hand and taking hold of Dean’s shoulder before Dean could even answer him. “Whoa, dude, what d’you think you’re doin’?” He stumbled away from the touch and blocked the angel with his good arm.

“I’m fixing it.” Big, blue and daring eyes met Dean’s.

“Yeah, no way I’m gonna let you touch me with that light of yours after what you just did.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” came the soft reply.

“Yeah, how about we ask the flaming assholes you just wiped from existence?” Dean remarked.

The angel’s brows bumped together in a scowl. “You really don’t know much about angels, do you?” he said, tilting his head.

“Yeah, I try to stay away from you as much as possible.”

“And how is that working out for you?” The angel smirked, apparently satisfied with his smartness.

“Oh look, he jokes, better pick out the wedding invitations now.” Dean laced his words with as much sarcasm as he could.

The angel rolled his eyes but didn’t answer, waiting for Dean to give in. Dean sighed. What choice did he have, really? _The feathers_  was offering to heal him. That was better than the alternative. Another thread of blood trickled down his temple and he wiped it away with his sleeve before looking down at the street the angel had turned to ashes. Dean let out a long breath and nodded, not looking directly at those blue eyes.

His heart began to race again when the dark haired angel got closer and slowly, carefully, reached out to settle one hand against Dean’s chest. He moved away Dean’s leather vest and his green shirt to expose the injured shoulder. Dean winced as he felt the angel placing his hand over his shoulder. Damn if it didn’t hurt like a bitch. _It’s broken for sure,_  Dean thought, _great._

“It’s not broken, it’s only dislocated,” the angel said, interrupting his thoughts.

“All right, just get it over with,” Dean rasped. “And stop poking around inside my head, it’s annoying.” He was acting like a child, Dean knew it, but he had earned that right after the shitty fiasco he had just went through.

“I could try to force the bone back into place without accessing my grace. But it would be extremely painful for you.” The angel was studying him like a freaking guinea pig. “Using my grace, though not as unpleasant, will cause you pain as well. But this is the best I can offer you at the moment.”

“Just do it… please.” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper. He tried to wipe the sweat soaking the back of his neck and failed – his hand was shaking and he was slowly losing control of his body; the only thing keeping him upright were the angel’s firm hands stopping him from falling.

Delicate and meticulous fingertips touched his shoulder, then an entire hand with a solid grip. “This may hurt a little,” was the only warning Dean got before a white hot searing pain lanced through his shoulder. It was like his skin was being torn apart, awakening every nerve ending in his body with a sharp burning sickness that ripped through his veins and set his whole flesh on fire. He felt the sting of tears filling his eyes, but he stubbornly closed them until the tears were no longer there.

Then, all at once, everything was quiet and peaceful and Dean could breathe again. His whole body relaxed as the pain disappeared. He could feel the angel’s warm body near him, holding him up and steady. That warmth, more than anything, soothed all traces of agony away.

“You said less painful. That was _not_ less painful.” His voice came out hoarse.

“I didn’t say it was pain _less_.”

“Yeah… let’s agree never to do that again, shall we?” Dean’s whole body was sore and drained, and talking was an entire task on its own.

“A simple thank you wouldn’t hurt either, you know?” The angel narrowed his eyes, but still those baby blues were calling out for Dean, chasing away the memory of the pain he had just felt moments ago.

“Thanks, dude,” Dean conceded. “I owe you one.”

“You are welcome.” A smile. The first one he saw from the angel. “And…” he hesitated, “…could you let go of my wing now?”

Dean felt a warm blush reaching his cheeks. “What…” He hadn’t noticed how his fingers had curled around a bunch of dark delicate feathers. “Uh, sorry.” He cleared his throat and carefully let go of the wing.

“Don’t worry about it,” the angel replied with another smile.

Dean could feel his blush deepening and glanced away, breaking the staring contest. He examined his shoulder and gasped, noticing the vibrant red handprint covering it.

The blue-eyed angel got ahead of him and replied before Dean could ask. “Only special human bodies, like the ones we use as our vessels, can endure being in contact with an abundance of grace without being hurt. In order for me to repair your bruises I had to use more of my grace than your skin could handle.”

“I didn’t know that could happen…” Dean mumbled, not really talking to the other guy but more to himself. He touched his shoulder slightly and felt the flesh, now with the angel’s mark adorning it.

The angel pulled back slowly, making sure first that Dean wouldn’t fall, before moving away completely. Dean immediately felt cold from his absence.

He turned around and Dean watched silently as the angel worked methodically to clean up all the mess he had made, his eyebrows knitted close together in concentration.

“Are you feeling better?” the gravelly voice asked. Dean had almost forgotten that he should move, say something, or do anything – anything at all – instead of acting like a creep just staring.

Dean was feeling strong enough to leave the wall supporting him. “Yes, thank you.” He offered a half smile while retrieving his sword from the ground and settling his bag on his shoulder.

“Do you want me to accompany you to your domicile?”

“My…” He was too tired to point out how odd that sounded. _Who even talks like that?_

“Nah, man, I’m good. Fresh as a daisy. But thanks.” He smiled again, a full on smile this time, with teeth and charm and anything he could manage at that moment.

The night’s wind blew faintly, but it was enough to send the angel swaying, ready to fall down, head first. “Hey man, are _you_ okay?” Dean grabbed him before the angel could fall.“Yes, I’m all right.” The angel in his arms looked up, little puffs of air meeting Dean’s skin while the blue-eyed stranger spoke, and for a moment, with the angel’s warmth gracing his body, Dean forgot that he should be worried. “I used too much of my grace at once. My body just needs time to recover, I’ll be fine.”“Do you want me to accompany you somewhere? ‘Cause you don’t look fine, dude.”“You don’t need to concern yourself about me. I promise I’ll be all right.” The angel straightened up with a smile and left Dean’s arms empty. “Have a good night.” He gave a small nod before turning away to leave.Dean stood there, watching the black-winged stranger walk down the street and for some weird reason he wished he didn’t have to. “Hey, I don’t even know your name.”

The angel glanced back over his shoulder, before pulling the hood of his cloak over his head. “My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel.” Dean repeated, trying the feel of the name on his tongue. “Nice to meet you, I’m Dean.”

Castiel nodded again. “Goodbye, Dean.” And left. The black wings propelled him off the ground and into the sky beyond what Dean’s eyes could reach.

 

 

Present day

Dean woke up with a start as the covered wagon’s wheels abruptly hit another bump in the road. He had the badly deteriorated pavement to blame for his lack of sleep during the long morning they had been travelling in this goddamn wagon.

He didn’t have much space to stretch his body properly in order to sleep, with all the ingredients for Sam’s shenanigans occupying all the free surface. There were containers of all sizes and shapes, with bezoar stones, scales from different animals, blood, several types of leaves, changing from green to red or yellow, a considerable amount of roots. Also other disgusting things, like eyes and toes, even tongues and Dean just prayed that those weren’t of the human kind. That didn’t help his insomnia either.

After rearranging the blanket over his shoulders, he peered at the sun shining through the open flap, unconsciously touching the old scar on his shoulder that, stubbornly, had never faded away.

It still hurt sometimes, a hot pain flaring through the red handprint every time the weather changed, or if he worked out his arm too much. Or, in his actual circumstance, after being in an uncomfortable position for hours in a row.

That didn’t bother him though - not the actual handprint, even though he had to make a lame excuse for it every time someone saw it. Or the actual pain, he was okay with pain. What hurt the most was the constant reminder of what the handprint meant.

“We’re here, Dean.” Sam’s words came from the driver’s seat. “Keep yourself hidden.” Dean closed the curtains and felt his lips curve into a shy smile that spread across his cheeks. He touched his eyes, as soft wrinkles reached their corners illuminating his whole face with a real, genuine smile. Dean chuckled, thinking back to when he used to try to make Ellen and Jo smile bright and whole again. After years without one of his own, Dean had found it again and his smile wasn’t so empty anymore.

The cold April’s wind blew against the thin curtains, revealing the imposing castle walls from his hometown - Piamoel.

He was home. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

** Present day **

The last time Dean had been in Piamoel felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since then, but the imposing thirty-foot castle walls stood majestic, exactly like Dean remembered them, as if frozen, waiting for his return. Their colossal stones, blanched white by time, were covered in places by the green vines that slithered across the surface. The big main gate awaited them with two guards outside. As Sam reassured Dean, they were able to get in without much trouble.

On the inside, protected by the walls, was the city. Piamoel City had one of the best locations in the Kingdom of Pir: surrounded by walls on the east, west and north sides, and delimited by the Niisa Ocean on the south.Through the slit of the wagon’s curtains, Dean could see the timber-framed buildings with white plastered walls and thatched roofs. He remembered running barefoot down the streets when he and Sammy were kids, the cobblestones cold underfoot as they raced for the clear waters by the beach.

There were two main sections within, divided by a river that cut the city in two uneven halves. A smaller one, meant for humans to live and work, where their houses were situated, along with the city’s tavern and the Smnad Market – Dean could almost hear his mother laughing, Sammy grabbing her hand and pushing through the crowd, begging her to go to one of the magic shops.

Moving past the market was the inn and right ahead the east temple and the east harbor. There were green gardens all around that stretched down to the river, which could only be crossed through one of the two bridges that connect the human side to the west half, where angels lived.

The city’s cathedral was based on that side of the city, along with the castle and several manor houses for the angels to live in. There was also a second market there – the Harg Market, attended only by angels – as well as the old town hall. At the far edge stood the old ruins, still preserved as a reminder of old times prior to angels, when war was the only thing humans knew.

A vast garden, only made possible with angel grace, occupied the whole center of the angel side of the city, blossoming with flowers and trees so rich and luxuriant that their perfume filled the whole city during the spring.

There was also the harbor, where ships of various shapes and sizes were moored along the port, with their large sails floating at the breeze’s accord.

The smell of sweet flowers and sea salt filled the wagon and the reality of that moment hit Dean like a wave. He was back. Finally.

The farther they got into the city, the louder the noise got. People moved all around them, some talking in a hurry, others laughing and chattering. Merchants hawked the day’s wares, haggling with customers over the prices of exotic goods – wolf tears, lighting ingot, ancient ores or even enchanted feathers. Other sounds filled the streets: farmers selling fresh products, the temple’s bells ringing in the distance; as they passed the tavern, a group of diurnal drunks sang an animated melody Dean didn’t recognize.

They made a quick stop at Sam’s workplace in order for him to unload all the boxes and supplies. His brother worked quickly and meticulously and they were ready to go in no time.

Their old house was one of the closest to the river, on the far side of the city, but the ride didn’t seem to last long for Dean, too entertained by the city’s activities to notice the time pass.

Dean and Sam had started working at a very early age to be able to afford their own house, away from their father’s rigid rules. They bought a house together, next to the river, not too far from the sea, as Sam had always been fond of the ocean and the salty fragrance the water provided. As for Dean, well, he could never say no to his little brother and his puppy eyes.

When Sam and Jessica started dating, and later got married, Dean had insisted that they could all live there; the house was big enough for the three of them and, that way, the two of them wouldn’t have to wait until they had enough money to buy a new house to live together. Everyone was happy with that decision and Dean couldn’t be more proud of his brother for making such a good life for himself. He had a respectable job, a great house and a wonderful wife. He felt as if life was finally smiling upon them.

He was wrong.

The rough stop of the wheels made him collide against one of the boxes. “Careful,” Dean protested. “Not everything back here is dead meat. And I would like to keep it that way.”

“Shut it. Do you want someone to hear you?” Sam whispered in response while leading the wagon to their barn. Once inside, Dean thanked whoever was up there for the sweet opportunity to stretch his legs again after such a long time. As soon as Dean got out of the wagon, an earthy smell, mixed with dust captivated his nose. He squinted, trying to get used to the dark.

The barn wasn’t big, it had just enough space to store their wagon and to have three boxes where they kept the horses. They had built it with their own hands, since Dean refused to leave his baby behind at their parents’ house and because the wagon was a necessary tool if Sam wanted to keep getting his own supplies. That was why the barn had a peculiar feature that had been a pain in the ass to build, but which turned out to be pretty damn helpful for a fugitive hiding in a wagon: the far wall of the stable was attached to the main house and had a door that connected directly to the kitchen.

They tended to the horses and settled them in the boxes before entering the kitchen.

A high pitched scream rang in Dean’s ears.

“What the f—” he started when the air was knocked out of his lungs as a solid object tackled him to the floor.

“Dean!” He looked up to see Jessica lying on top of him with a huge smile on her face.

“Really, Jess? Really?” Sam shook his head, looming over both of them, but Jess ignored him in favor of focusing on Dean.

“It’s so good to see you,” Jessica said loud enough to make Dean wince while covering his face with sloppy kisses. “I missed you so much Dean, we all did.” She hugged him tightly and he returned the strong hold.

“It’s good to see you too, Jess.” Dean kept holding her for a while longer until his brother helped both of them to their feet.

“Yes, please pretend like I’m not even here,” Sam grumbled.

Jess smiled, rolling her eyes, while giving him a proper kiss. “Don’t be such a whiner.” She rested her forehead against his fondly for a moment before turning her attention to Dean again. “We have so much to talk about. I want to know everything that happened to you. And we have so much to tell you. Oh, I can’t wait to tell you everything. Have you heard about Charlie? Amazing, right? And the house, I can’t wait to show you what we’ve changed around here.”

She started pacing around the kitchen, moving her arms enthusiastically. “You’re gonna have to talk to Bobby, now that you’re back. Because of your work, you know? Even though you’re a fugitive now.” She brought one finger to her chin. “I don’t know if it’s even possible for you to work there again. He has a new bladesmith. Not as good as you, of course. Bobby himself told me that. But I’m sure he has your spot waiting for you, when the angels stop hunting you.” She paused on her tracks with a sudden frown. “That is, of course, if that’s what you wanna do. Maybe you feel like doing someth—”

“Jess!” his brother interrupted her.

“Umm?” She looked up with her round, green eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Bobby. As for the rest,” Dean said with a quick shrug. “I’m not sure if there’s much to tell you, really.”

Jessica’s eyes softened. “I know.” She took a few steps, stopping right in front of him, too close for Dean’s comfort and his irrational fear that she would be able to read his mind in that distance – his dark thoughts, every bad thing he had done in these past three years to survive. She brought her hand up to caress his cheek. “It’s fine. But whenever you feel like talkin’, we’re here for you.” Jess turned away and headed for the kitchen door. “I’m gonna finish setting the table so we can have lunch,” she continued to yell from the corridor while they just stood there, dumbstruck. “You boys go take a bath or something while I get everything ready, you stink.”

“What’s for lunch?” Dean shouted in return.

“Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes.” Her golden head showed up at the kitchen’s doorway again. With a little smirk, she added, “And apple pie for dessert,” before disappearing again into the dining room.

“Oh man.” Dean couldn’t help but bounce on his toes. “She’s a keeper, can I steal her?”

“Yeah, Dean, that joke got old the hundredth time you said it.”

“You can’t blame a guy for trying.” Dean smirked. His brother sighed and proceeded to disappear into the corridor as well.

Dean followed him. The house was mostly the same with a few changes here and there, probably Jess’ way to give a woman’s touch to the house. Dean hadn’t had a chance to see that happen – only a week after Jess had moved in, he’d been taken to the front.

He sighed and followed the hardwood floor until he was standing in front of the main entrance door. Dean reached for it and touched the frame lightly, feeling the old rough surface.

Dean continued in a slow motion along the corridor, feeling the cold stone wall against his fingertips and the hardwood floor under his feet. A strange emotion took hold of him, making the small hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. It was that silence. That calmness, which he wasn’t used to anymore. There was never peace or quietude on the front lines.

He closed his eyes and tried to center himself in the present. He wasn’t there anymore. The war days were over for him. He had to get used to this now.

“Dean?” Dean jumped as Jess’ honey-sweet voice came from behind him. “Are you all right?”

He turned around to where Jess stood and just took her in for a moment. She was wearing a long, navy blue dress, with white trumpet sleeves and blue straps lacing around both upper arms. A wide white sash around her waist highlighted her slim body, with her long blonde hair falling perfectly around her porcelain skin.

Dean had always found her beautiful. He loved her like a sister and he remembered thinking how perfect she was for Sam. He always knew his little brother would grow up to have someone like Jess. A beautiful girl with a sweet smile and a kind heart.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He gripped the handrail from the wide oaken staircase. “Just taking a look around.” His voice was hoarse as he made his way to the upper floor. Jessica let him go without another word and he was grateful for that. Once at the top of the stairs, Dean was embraced by the midday sunlight shimmering through the three broad, arched windows, into the wide hall.

His bedroom was the second on the right, Dean pushed the door wide and wasted no time going inside. A warm, yellow light soaked through the large window into the empty room, giving the blue walls and wooden floor an inviting atmosphere.

Everything was exactly as Dean had left it three years before. His gaze drifted to his large bed at the center and the stone fireplace on the opposite side. His fingers hovered gingerly over the items and the wooden furniture as he walked along the room. Off to one side of the fireplace was an armchair and an ottoman he so often used in the cold nights, watching the dark clouds through the window glass.

On the other side of the bedroom was a large wardrobe where all his clothes hung neatly, next to the door that led to his en suite bathroom. The smell of clean linen and fresh, cleaned clothes lingered in the air. He wanted so badly to stay and enjoy all of that, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

Dean walked down the stairs to find Jess and Sam already in the kitchen.

“Are you ready for lunch?” Jess worked quickly around the large wood-fired oven, adding the mashed potatoes into a bowl and putting the roasted chicken on a serving platter.

“Oh yeah.”

He followed them to the dining room: a large space, with hardwood floor and a long mahogany table at the center. The most amazing plate of food was put in front of Dean – it practically glowed and sang Dean’s name, inviting him to dig the fuck in. And how could he say no to that? He stuffed his face with food and wasn’t even sorry for the slurping noises coming out of his mouth. He got seconds twice, sucking on his fingers with loud ‘pop’ sounds once he was done.

He ignored the disgusted glare from his brother and Jess’ amused expression. “Uh, I… I need to do something now.” He shifted a bit in his seat and looked pointedly at his brother. “But I’m gonna need your help.”

 

 

They rode Sam’s horse as to not raise any suspicions. Dean had taken his long green cloak, its wide hood hiding his face from any pedestrian passing by. Still, it was a risk. He knew that.

His mother’s house wasn’t far, but for Dean, the ride couldn’t have lasted longer. “You look like our grandfather riding, you know that?” he groaned.

“Yes, sure, let’s just ride like two maniacs and attract all the attention to us,” his brother retorted.

“Shut your pie hole.”

“You shut it.”

“Sasquatch.”

“Bow-legged pygmy!”

“I’ll punch you in the face!”

“I would like to see you try!” Sam had partially turned around to face Dean, quite an impressive feat since he was riding a horse at the same time.

“You little—”

“Samuel!” A cold, sharp voice cut off their squabble as a man approached them.

“Victor, good evening.” Sam turned around to the man coming their way and Dean prayed he hadn’t heard his voice.

“It pleases me to see you back. I came to your shop a few weeks ago, but I was informed that you were away on business. Getting more supplies, I presume?”

_Shit. How lucky of them to find exactly this guy._  Victor Henriksen, along with Jody Mills, were responsible for the city’s guard and all the human soldiers. They had to report any and every occurrence that could compromise the city’s safety to Naomi, the head of the angels’ security.

Jody was one hell of a city guard, they knew her since their childhood and she was practically family. Victor on the other hand, was a prick. He would sell his own mother if his career could profit with it.

“Uh, yes I was, actually, was there something you needed?” Sam’s voice was carefully neutral.

“Just checking what new interesting items you might have there.” Victor narrowed his eyes and gave a sidelong glance towards Dean. “And who’s your companion?”

“This is, uh, D-Daniel.” Victor was looking more and more skeptical as his brother spoke.

“Umm.”

“He’s foreign,” Sam added, looking quickly between Dean, who was trying his best to cover his face as much as possible, and Victor. “And he’s shy, as you can see.” Sam followed this up with a laugh, too high for it to sound anything but fake. Now Dean was really going to punch him in the face.

“I see.” Victor didn’t seem to notice the unnatural way Sam was behaving and seemed to relax. “Well, I wish Daniel a good stay here. And I’ll come by your shop one of these days. I’m sure you have many things for me to discover still.” With that he turned around, waving his hand and elbowing his way down the street. They stayed quiet for a few moments until Victor was far from their view.

“Could you be more obvious?” Dean pinched Sam’s arm.

“Ouch, stop it.” He jerked away from Dean’s next pinch and tightened his hold around the reins, nudging his horse forward. “I just hope he believed me.”

Another few fast beats across the street with their horse’s strong hooves and they were face to face with their childhood home. They settled the horse in the backyard and went inside through the back door.

The house was silent, except for his mother’s velvet voice, humming some delicate music. It smelled of homemade bread and almond cake and Dean came crashing back to all those years ago, when he was still a child and his mother would sing him a soft lullaby and spend her mornings in the kitchen making the most amazing food he had ever tasted.

“Mom?” Sammy said, his voice distant as if through a thick fog. Dean couldn’t concentrate on him anymore. His eyes were drawn to the blonde woman at the end of the hall; her soft blue eyes that always reminded him of the ocean were now like liquid water, as fresh formed tears quickly filled them.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, covering her mouth with both hands.

Apparently Dean had lost his voice, because instead of replying, he ran. The couple of steps that took him to get to his mother seemed far too long. Dean reached for her, his arms pulling her warm body to his in a crushing embrace.

He buried his face in her soft hair and hugged his mother tightly, letting her arms soothe all the horrors of the last three years away; if only for a moment, all of that was gone. There was only this, with his mother murmuring words of affection in his ear – “I love you,” and “I missed you,” and others he couldn’t discern, because they were both crying and sometimes the words got caught between the sobs.

“I love you, Mom.” Dean tightened his hold, his own face getting wet and his vision blurry when more drops fell from his eyes.

They broke apart and Mary cradled his face in her hands. Dean kept holding his mother as if it was physically impossible to let go of her, as she looked him in the eyes and took in his face. “My sweet boy. My dear son.”

Mary hugged Sam, before taking Dean’s hand, and guided them to the living room. That’s when he noticed Sammy’s own tear-streaked face. Before he could say some snarky remark though, Sam pointed him a finger with a deadly stare. “Not a single word.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Dean put on his most innocent look and raised his hands in surrender. They sat on the couches and he held his mother once more before breaking apart.

“We have so much to talk about.” Mary’s eyes glistened as she smiled breathlessly.

“Please don’t cry, Mom.” He wiped away some of the newly formed tears running down her cheeks. “I’m here now. Everything will be all right.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” She clutched both of his hands in hers. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t see you again. I can’t believe you were out there all by yourself and that I let it happen.”

“You didn’t let anything happen, Mom. It wasn’t your fault. Sam told me what Dad did. You couldn’t have known.”

Mary took a few breaths, trying to control her sobs before speaking again. “I’m your mother, I should have known that something was wrong.”

“Stop blaming yourself, please.” He caressed her hair softly.

“Yeah, self-blame. I wonder who else perfected that trait to exhaustion, huh?” His little brother winked and smiled, making the corner of his eyes crinkle.

They all laughed, every emotion and fear they had kept for so long making them laugh harder than they probably should have, given their current situation. But Dean couldn’t help it, and apparently neither could Sam and Mary.

The afternoon went by quickly while both brothers told Mary everything about their last few weeks. Dean didn’t feel comfortable talking about the war yet. His mother knew it, he could see it in her eyes, how she understood what he was trying to hide. All the fresh and old wounds, and not just the physical type. He managed to keep his smile as they talked about their friends and everything new Dean had missed in the city. His mother smiled back at him, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You know, I never found out what exactly happened with Cas after you left.”

Dean looked away. This was another subject he wasn’t ready to talk about.

“He started visiting me a few months after you were gone… There was something different about him. At first I thought he was sad because you had left, but there was something else there.” Mary caught his hand, perhaps feeling how much he wanted to flee from there. The couch was suddenly burning through his clothes and licking at his skin. “I asked Cas about it a few times, tried to make him open up to me, but he never replied, never told me a thing,” she continued. “He stopped coming after a while.”

Dean got up and went to the window half covered by the scarlet curtains. The sun was nearly blinding as the cloudless sky reminded him of a blue he wanted to forget. Dean closed his eyes. “Are you two telepathically connected or something? S’many things to talk about. Why do you have to bring _that_ up?”

“Because he was important to you,” Mary whispered. “And we’ve been talking for hours now and you didn’t even mention his name.”

“Yeah, well, things change. I moved on, you both should try doing the same.”

He turned around to see that his mother had left the couch to stand behind him. “If that’s what you really want.” And there it was again, the sadness he wished he could take away from those beautiful eyes.

“We should leave,” his brother’s voice came from the middle of the room. “It’s not safe to be here for long.” He gave Dean a pointed look. “We can’t get Mom involved too. You’re a fugitive. And soon, word will get out that I helped you get away.”

Dean gave a soft nod and planted a kiss on his mother’s forehead. “This is what I want, Mom.” He smiled like he meant it. “I have everything I want right here.” He kissed her again and they bid their goodbyes. She promised to visit them soon, once they were sure things were safer for her.

The journey back home was easier, shorter. He had done what he wanted the most and the world felt a little bit better now. When they got home, the sunlight rays had started to fade. Dean entered the house, followed by his brother. “I’ll be back in a second. Just need to refresh a little.”

“Sure, man, take your time.”

Dean turned around and went upstairs, yawning all the way up and through his bedroom, into the bathroom where he washed off his face. He checked himself in the mirror for the first time in weeks. There were gray bags under his eyes and his beard had grown more than he realized. He touched the sharp, light hairs and sighed.

When Dean got out, he just stood there, watching his bedroom once again, not bothering to take off his clothes before walking over to the bed and collapsing onto it. He closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

 

 

When he woke up again, the room was submerged in darkness. The loud voices coming from the first floor made him get up in such a hurry, his feet got stuck in the sheets and he fell down, head first into the wooden floor.

“Shit,” Dean mumbled and tried again, leaving his bedroom behind and climbing down the stairs, three steps at a time. The voices were getting louder. Screaming, even. Dean followed the sounds leading him to the parlor.

He poked his head around the corner and stopped in his tracks.

“You idjits!”

Dean froze.

“Here I was, waitin’ for some kind of news from ya two fools and I had to hear it from your mother that you were back.”

The smaller man had his back to Dean while pacing from side to side, grumbling incoherently under his breath to the other three people in the room – Sam, Jess and _Charlie_.

“ _Bobby_!”

The old man turned around almost tripping on his own feet. Dean launched forward with his arms open, ready to hug the old bastard, but was stopped by a finger poking at his chest.

“You… You idjit!” Bobby continued to shove his index finger against Dean. “You damn stubborn kid.”

“I’m sorry, all right?” Dean said. “I meant to tell you as soon as possible, but really, we just got back a few hours ago, I was gonn—”

“Uh, actually, you’ve been sleeping since yesterday, Dean,” Sam added.

“Really? Umm.”

“Don’t you ‘umm’ me, boy.” Bobby shook his head and sighed, deep and slowly. “C’mere.” Bobby hugged him with such force Dean swore he was about to break his spine. Dean hugged him just as tight. They pulled apart and Bobby squeezed his shoulders, taking a good look at him. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks. Tell me something I don’t know.” Both men laughed.

Charlie got up with a smile on her face. The redhead didn’t need permission before jumping into Dean’s arms _Jess-style_. This time though, he was ready to pull her little body off the ground.

“We missed you, knucklehead,” she murmured into his shoulder.

“I missed you too, Char.” Dean rubbed her back and whispered against the side of her head. “It’s good to see you.” She pulled back, her eyes swimming with tears and Dean squeezed her cheeks.

“Hey.” She patted his hands away. “I didn’t miss that.”

“Liar.” Dean laughed.

They sat down around the parlor, while Jess and Sam brought cookies, pie and some kind of tea both Dean and Bobby had refused with a grimace. Dean drank his ale and listened to their light conversation, his memories taking him back to sunny afternoons when Jess visited them and sat there painting or playing her violin; the whole family sometimes came together to listen to the soft melody.

Bobby snapped his fingers briskly in front of Dean’s face, pulling him out of his thoughts. Dean swallowed more ale before describing what he and Sam had gone through over the last weeks.

“There I was, waiting for the next order of attack when my brother came rushing in through the front door, so to speak, with a permit from Michael saying I was free to go. They bought it and let us go.” Dean took a bite of his slice of pie and spoke around the food. “Good plan by the way.” Dean glanced at Sam.

“Yeah, that was Dad’s idea.” Sam leaned back. “We knew they would only let you go with a permit from Michael.”

“Ya never told me how you managed to fake it.” Bobby took a sip from his beer. “I’ve been around for a long time, boy, and the only way you can get those things is from the damn source – an angel.”

“I have my sources,” his brother replied with a goofy smile on his face.

“Yeah, I wanna know too, you never told me how you got that permit.”

“Well,” he hesitated, fingers playing around the hem of his pants. “I asked Gabriel,” he mumbled.

“ _Gabriel_?” everyone shouted in unison.

“Are you crazy?”

“So, Gabe knows I’m out?”

“Damn, son.”

“Seriously, Sammy…”

“What did you guys want me to do, huh? I needed an angel, there was no other choice.” He got up from his chair, his tea forgotten on the table. “I did what was necessary to save my brother.”

“All right, all right, calm down, boy. Just sit.”

Sam took a deep breath, rolled up his sleeves up to his elbows and sat down again.

Dean was silent while the others continued their talk. He couldn’t believe this matter depended on the loyalty of an angel. And it wasn’t just _any_ damn angel. It was Gabriel, no less – Michael and Cas’ brother. Just fucking great.

“What exactly made you think that going to Gabriel was the best decision?” Dean growled and folded his arms.

“I needed an angel I could trust, Dean. And Gabe has been our friend sinc–”

“Speak for yourself,” Dean shouted back.

Yeah, so maybe he was being a little unfair. Gabriel hadn’t done anything against him, technically, but just being the brother of who he was, was enough to earn him a spot in Dean’s shit list.

“Let me see if I got this right.” Jessica had her eyes closed in concentration, thumb and index finger touching her chin. “So your dad helped Michael to kidnap you. And then helped him cover it up.” She opened her eyes and looked at Dean. “Why?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Charlie answered for him.

“’Cause of Cas,” Bobby ended the thought, making every single head turn in his direction.

“Wait, what?” his brother blurted out.


	4. Chapter 4

** Present day **

Dean scratched the back of his head and, with a groan, turned to his other side for the hundredth time that night. Every time he closed his eyes he was sent right back into that hellhole. His last nightmare was so vivid he could still feel the abrasive dirt against his skin.

Dean had been hurled away by another faceless angel, his arms growing raw as he skidded across the gravel when he hit the ground. A cloud of brown dust was left in his wake, stinging his eyes and his throat. Dean jerked his head around, but his sword was nowhere to be found. Probably lost in the fall.

The air around him changed with a new gust of black wings as the angel landed in front of Dean.

“Human,” he spat it out with so much repulsion, it made Dean flinch. The angel blade shone blindingly as he towered over Dean and raised it for the final blow.

“Go to hell,” Dean said in return; if he was going out, Dean wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing fear in his eyes.

“You first.” The angel grinned and brought the blade down in a swift motion. Just as Dean made peace with the pain that was coming, Tran stabbed the angel with his sword - they both knew that wouldn’t kill him, but Dean had to give the kid props for trying. The angel growled and turned to him, dropping the blade. One hand landed flat on the kid’s chest and the other took the sword away from him.

Before Dean could react, Kevin’s scream pierced his ears as the angel’s palm shimmered brightly against him and the most pure snow-white light shone through Kevin’s chest – his soul, Dean realized between sharp breaths. Consuming souls’ essence was much part of the war as any other weapon. The angels following Lucifer didn’t care for the humans’ consent, unlike the ones back at Dean’s home, and they took full advantage of the free energy at their disposal.

Losing some of your essence was pretty much like losing blood, Dean’s mother told him when he was a kid. If you lost too much you died, but if it was just a little you wouldn’t even notice, and eventually your soul could heal itself.

Dean later realized that that was only true if the process was done under the right conditions, and angels like Lucifer didn’t give a damn about that, forcing their way in and devouring as many souls as they could get their hands on. Even if they didn’t manage to drain the soul dry, most people didn’t make it anyway. The sheer amount of force required to take the soul against the human’s will lacerated the protective walls of the delicate soul and ripped through the cracks, too deeply for any hope of recovery.

The humans who did survive said it hurt like hell. Dean didn’t know from experience, but from the loud, chilling wail ringing in his ears right now, he fucking believed it.

Dean grabbed the angel blade and struck, and within the next blink everything changed: an explosion of light turned the angel into harsh winds made of ash and burned feathers. A black feather got stuck to his shirt and Dean held it between his fingers, thinking about a time when black wings had a whole different meaning in his life. He wiped away the dead angel dust that clung to his sweaty skin and looked up at Kevin – alive and staring back at Dean with wide eyes.

That had been Dean’s first kill, and it changed him. Later he would wonder if something in him died when the angel did.

Dean tossed and turned in the dark, fighting with the blankets tangled around his legs and the pillow that didn’t feel like his own anymore. He finally gave up on sleeping and found himself drifting to the kitchen.

Sam was already there and Dean was too sleepy to turn around fast enough to leave and avoid his brother’s gaze from the other side of the kitchen island. “Hey,” he mumbled.

“Hey, yourself,” Sam replied and went back to his bread and his disgusting almond milk, which was an insult to real, delicious milk in Dean’s opinion. Dean grabbed a piece of the leftover pie and joined Sammy in silence, praying that his brother would keep it that way.

“So, Dean…”

Dean sighed, deep and slow.

“What Bobby said today,” Sam continued.

“What about it?”

“Seriously, man, what happened with Cas?”

Dean dropped his fork and slammed his hand on the table. “Why can’t you people forget about him? Goddammit!”

“Why would he be the reason Dad and Michael sent you away?”

Dean gave a mirthless laugh. “Goddammit, Sammy, you really are blind sometimes.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should drop it.”

“Dean.”

“Sam!”

“ _What does it mean?_ ”

Dean jumped to his feet; the chair he was sitting on flew backwards, hitting the floor with a loud thump and making Sam flinch. Dean gritted his teeth. “It doesn’t matter, okay?”

“Dean…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he clenched his fists, “because in the end, he betrayed me too.”

Sam shook his head and gulped audibly. “Are yo—”

“I’m sure.” Dean forced his shoulders to relax and picked his chair up. “Cas was the one who told Michael where to find me, okay? He was the only one who knew where I was that day. I never wrote it in the letter I left you, so Dad didn’t know either.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean interrupted him. “He was the only one, Sam.” Dean turned around and left.

 

 

** Four years ago **

Dean was having a great week. He had forged a modified rapier, a long sword, with a wavy golden blade and a hard black scabbard made entirely of adamant. Then, one of his favorite creations so far: a modified sword with a large blade called a dadao, composed of Orichalcum, a strong and rare metal that gave the weapons a fuchsia coloration. The dark-skinned woman had shrieked when Dean showed her the results of his work, her wide face lighting up with a gorgeous smile. Her yellow-brown eyes met Dean’s as she gave him her most heartfelt thanks. Dean’s day was made.

The weapons he got to modify were always his favorites to make. When his buyers gave him freedom to unleash his imagination, he was sent to paradise. That’s why he loved this job. That’s why he had taken up this career in the first place. To create things, to put to good use his thoughts and imagination.

Ever since his attack the week before, he had refrained from passing that same street. Which was why he now had to make a trip twice as long from his house to work and back again. That certainly didn’t mean he was scared or anything, _thank you very much._  He was just being cautious, even if his shoulder and wounds were all healed up. Dean ended up passing every day in front of the house of one of the only angels Dean actually got along with, even if said angel was most of the time a pain in the ass – Gabriel.

Unlike the rest of the angelic royal family up in the castle, Gabriel didn’t even live on the angel side of town. He had married a human named Kali a few years ago and been considered an outcast ever since.

Even though his brother, Michael, was an avid supporter of the agreement between angels and humans, it was well known that he saw them as partners to work with and not as friends or family. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy with Gabriel’s decision.

As Dean entered Vpaachi Street, the short angel, with dark golden hair and white wings was at the front of his house having an intense conversation with another angel who had his back to Dean. He didn’t need to see his face, though; the black wings identified the angel from afar.

 “Hey there,” Dean called out.

Two pairs of eyes peered back at him, both blue and golden seemed affronted for a moment by the unwelcome interruption.

_Okay then_.

Gabe’s face lit up when he recognized him. “Dean-o, hello to you.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Dean grumbled as he took the final steps towards the two angels.

“Oh c’mon, you know you secretly love it.”

“Actually…” Dean pretended to think about it. “Yeah, it’s still a no.”

The blue-eyed angel hadn’t said a single word yet. They exchanged a quick glance and Dean smiled sheepishly, noticing how those deep blues seemed to pierce through his soul under the sunlight. The night’s darkness hadn’t done enough justice to them the week before. The sun should never set again just to keep that set of eyes bright and gleaming like they were in that moment.

Cas gave him an amused smile, as if he had just listened to everything he had thought. Dean felt his whole face burning as he forced his brain to shut the hell up.

“Oh, how rude of me. Dean, this i—”

“Hey, Cas.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Dean. “Cas?”

“Hello, Dean.”

The white-winged angel turned his head quickly to Cas. “You…” He looked at Dean again. “You two know each other?”

“You could say that.” Both of them chuckled and Gabriel seemed even more confused.

“Cas..?” Gabe repeated, screwing up his face. “You gave him a nickname as well? I thought we had something special going on, Dean-o.”

Dean realized he had given the angel a nickname without even noticing it. “Uh, yeah, well.” Dean ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “That’s your fault for having such weird names. What the hell kind of a name is _Castiel?_ I’m sensing someone pissed off their parents, huh?” _What?_ “I did you a favor, dude, you’ll thank me later.”

He tried to laugh but all he heard was an embarrassing, high-pitched sound that he would forever deny had left his mouth.

Gabriel chuckled.

“I mean, no offense.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, trying to stop his mouth from following what his short-circuited brain was trying to come up with.

_When had he became such a fucking walking disaster?_

“Hey, relax, I don’t mind sharing you, if it’s with _Cas._ ” The little asshole winked and gave Dean a pat on his back.

“Just stop talking, Gabe.” Dean drew his bottom lip between his teeth and glanced over to Cas who was watching him intently. “So, how come I’ve already seen you twice in a week, but never once before that?”

“Cassie here doesn’t like to go out much. He’s only here following our brother’s request.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel warned.

“It’s true,” Gabe replied in a matter-of-fact voice, shrugging his shoulders.

“Wait, you’re brothers?” Dean knew there were two other siblings besides Michael, Lucifer and Gabriel even though he had never seen them before. But stories about the five siblings were well known all around the kingdom – their powers were so unparalleled and extraordinary, no other angel dared to defy them, which had led to Michael, the oldest and strongest of the five, being proclaimed leader of the angels and ruler of the kingdom.

“Yup,” Gabriel said. “And our dearest brother, Michael, apparently needs me on his side, now that Luc has rebelled and left the kingdom.” He looked at his brother with accusatory eyes. “And he sent _Cas_ here to do his dirty work.”

Cas looked away, hanging his head. “That’s… that’s not the whole truth and you know it.”

“Yeah, right.”

Dean kept staring back and forth between the brothers. He squinted and came nearer, his eyes trailing up and down the other two. “You’re brothers?!”

The other two stopped their argument.

“Man, you look so different.”

Gabriel huffed. “Did you listen anything we just said?”

Dean snapped his head up from his close inspection. “Uh, yeah, brothers fighting and all. That sucks, dude. I’ve had a few of my own with my own brother. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“I also came here because of this.” Cas moved away his cloak, exposing a long, slim, silver sword. “It is fractured. I need you to fix this for me, Gabriel.”

“Can’t you just,” Dean interrupted, “use your mojo or something to fix it?”

“I would.” The corner of Cas’ mouth turned upward. “But I used most of my grace to save you.”

“Oh, right.”

Gabriel was watching their exchange with a strange look in his eyes.

“I can’t ask my other siblings because I don’t want them to know what happened last week.” Cas’ expression hardened. “Especially Michael.” He paused. “That is why I need your help, Gabriel.”

“No can do, baby brother, I’m also out of fuel.” His frown turned into a smirk. “But here,” Gabriel put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, pushing him in his brother’s direction. Cas took a step back with a startled expression that mirrored Dean’s. “Dean is the best bladesmith in the kingdom. People come from all around the world to see him.”

“I wouldn’t say around the world, I mean –” Dean tried to get away from Gabriel’s insistent hands, but his grip was like a claw of pure steel around his bones.

“Oh please, stop being modest.”

“Can you just…” Dean jerked his shoulders again. “Just,” he patted away Gabe’s hands, “let go of me, man. You’re like an octopus, jeez.”

“Can you do it?” The gravel voice stopped his struggle.

Dean glanced at Cas and was surprised by how close they had gotten during Dean’s failed attempts to get away from Gabriel. He could feel the puff of hot air that left Cas’ mouth hitting his face softly. Dean looked away from the baby blues locked on him, down to Cas’ plump lips, and instinctively bit his bottom lip before meeting Cas’ gaze again.

 “Yes,” Dean replied softly, with a determined smile. “Yes, I can.”

 

 

Cas had come the following day to leave his sword at Bobby’s forge. Dean was already waiting for him; he had cleared up his afternoon so he could focus his attention solely on the angel blade. They were both in the back of the forge used to work on the weapons.

“What is your verdict?” Castiel was pacing back and forth while Dean inspected his sword.

“Hold on, let me see.”

Cas remained quiet for exactly two seconds before settling his hands on the table. “ _Dean._ ”

Dean ignored him.

“Dean, you have been staring for thirty minutes. Please, say something.”

“All right, hold your horses.” Dean put down the sword gently and looked up at the restless angel. “I can fix it. Give me a month so I can get the necessary supplies.” He got up and stretched his arms above his head. “Your baby will be good as new when I give it back to you.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas’ face relaxed at last, the corners of his lips curling up into a genuine smile, as he touched his sword lightly. “Do you find it preferable to pay for your services now, or should I do it in the end?”

“What?” Dean furrowed his brow. “No, man, I don’t want your money.”

Cas lifted his head from his angel blade and tilted his head. “I’m sure this is very expensive, Dean. All your hours of labor. I could never accept it.”

“You saved my life, Cas. This is the least I can do.”

“I-I can’t accept that.” Cas glanced around the forge, seemingly lost in thought. Dean watched Charlie talking with a woman with blue eyes and long, wavy black hair. Both women were checking scythes of different sizes. Bobby was at the front of the forge, attending to two other possible customers. A couple of other people walked around the place, checking out the forge’s wares. “You work hard in here. It would not be fair if I did not pay your services.”

Dean glanced at Cas whose eyes were glued on him, and smiled, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll tell you what, you wanna pay? Fine. How about you buy me dinner?”

“Yes, I –” Cas blinked his eyes a couple of times. “What?”

“Listen, man, it’s getting late. I’m starving. How about we go grab dinner? On you. And we can call it even.” He added a non-committal shrug.

Cas wasn’t saying anything. The hot flames from the furnaces danced gently in the angel’s eyes, adding a new color to those ocean blues. He was gorgeous like that and Dean felt like he was burning up, but not from the fire in the forge.

“And I’m quite a good company myself, if I may say so.” He winked, trying to provoke any reaction from the angel, who still wasn’t moving or talking.

There was something about Cas that drew him in. Dean was fascinated in a way he had never been before. Dean had this need, burning inside him, to find everything he could about Castiel. Who he was, what stuff he liked, what made him tick. Dean craved those little pieces and edges that made him who he was and it was both exhilarating and fucking terrifying.

Cas flashed him a delighted grin and nodded. “I think we can arrange that.”

 

 

The Roadhouse was the local tavern owned and managed by Ellen and her daughter Jo. After Bill’s death, the whole neighborhood tried to help Ellen to manage the family business by herself and raise her little girl, who had just lost her father so tragically.

They had adjusted to their new life and had become like family to the Winchesters in the process. A few years after Bill died, Ellen and Jo had managed to find some happiness again with Bobby who had married Ellen and raised Jo as his own.

The tavern wasn’t far from Dean’s work. Its structure sat at one of the richest town squares the city had, with one of the largest fountains Dean had ever seen at its center, filling the whole square with sounds of splashing water. The area was surrounded on all sides by different shapes of houses except for the entrance where carved stone of sharp, elaborate looking winged angels made up the grand archway. On the opposite side of the tavern was the bookshop, which made Sam instantly fond of this part of the town as well.

Dean had left the forge right behind Cas, who said he preferred flying while Dean made his way there on Chevro’s back. The sun was still bright, despite the late hour, and Cas had already landed by the time Dean got near the fountain. He stroked one of his dark wings before folding it carefully behind his back, and summoned a sphere of water to his hand, making the water float above his palm, playing with it, forming different shapes – a bird, a wisteria tree, a man on a horse who looked awfully similar to Dean and his baby.

“I thought you were out of grace.” Dean dismounted and moved to the angel’s side to inspect his trick more closely.

“I still have enough grace, otherwise I would be dead. I just lack enough power in me right now for other tasks that require more from my grace.”

“Like fixing a sword?” Dean said, with a smile plastered on his face.

Cas looked up and let the water drop lifelessly into the fountain. “Like fixing a sword,” he confirmed, nodding once, his eyes boring into Dean.

Dean looked away. The square was mostly silent and he could hear muffled voices coming from the houses around them as families gathered inside after another day at work.

 “So, how come you’re out of mojo? I thought all you angels needed to do once your grace is weak is steal a soul or two to power up again.”

Cas gave him a cold stare and replied in a choleric tone. “We do not steal anything. The second commandment specifically states that any soul essence must be given to us freely. By law, any angel who violates that rule will be personally executed by Michael. And I have my reasons not to take it.” He looked away. “Reasons I would rather not discuss with you.”

_So yeah, that had been kinda douchey._  Dean knew that part of the agreement between his kind and the angels was that the humans had to volunteer for it. Dean had never done it, but Sam did it a few times. Something like, ‘making a contribution to society’ or whatever the hell the weirdo had said before heading to the infirmary on the angel’s side of town to donate part of his soul’s essence.

When Michael and his angels had found a safe, non-painful way of taking and using a soul’s essence, they finally had the means to make a peace treaty with the humans, one that guaranteed the angels’ survival by having easy access to the precious energy they needed so much and the safety of the humans while donating their essence to the angels. Everyone in the kingdoms knew and lived by these rules. As much as Dean hated it, this arrangement had made it possible for both angels and humans to survive this far.

“All right, all right, man.” Dean shook his head and tugged on Chevro’s bridle for her to follow him. “Don’t need to be so touchy about it.” He turned around and headed to the tavern.

He glanced over his shoulder and gave Cas a mischievous smile, adding, “You’re lucky you look cute when you’re angry.”

Surprised blue eyes stared back at him, the angel’s mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a fish. Dean suppressed a chuckle, closing the rest of the gap between them and the Roadhouse with Castiel following suit. The bell of the tavern’s door welcomed them in; inside, hunting trophies lined the walls around the large bar at the center and various angelic candles lit the entirety of the room.

Another busy night was starting - the washing dishes clinking together, Ellen behind the bar mixing drinks and chasing the most drunken customers away, the men scattered around the various wooden tables, smoking their pipes and drinking their mugs of ale. As the door closed behind them, the cacophony came to a stop and the crowd became quiet.

Castiel tensed beside him and removed his hood from his head with a firm movement. He looked around, with a dare in his eyes that had become darker, as if challenging whoever was brave enough to attack him.

“Hey.” Dean grabbed Castiel’s wrist instinctively. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “they’re just curious, but they’re generally good people.” The angel looked at him and relaxed visibly. “Let’s go get us a table, all right?”Cas nodded and Dean squeezed his wrist for a moment longer before letting go. He had no idea why he had done it, but the idea of comforting the angel, of soothing him, felt… natural.

Dean felt all eyes on them as they made their way, the old wooden floor creaking as they reached his favorite table, between the fireplace – where the smell of the fire crackling mixed beautifully with the heavy smoke coming from the pipes - and one of the large windows.

Dean leaned back against the chair and looked around. The usual turmoil had gone back to normal and they were left alone for the time being. Gradually he lowered his defenses and turned his attention to Cas.

The angel also had his eyes on the crowd, his distress was visible by the furrow in his eyebrows and how his hands were clenched in tight fists.

“Cas.” Dean touched his shoulder gently. “It’s fine, I promise. You’re safe here.” The angel glanced back at him, looking unsure. Once again the need to comfort the angel got the better of him and Dean couldn’t stop the next words from coming out. “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? You’re safe with me.”

Castiel smiled sweetly and tilted his head. “Even though I could probably kill everyone here with a mere snap of my fingers, you would still protect _me_?”

“I would try.” Dean shrugged. His hand was still on Cas’ shoulder, getting comfortably warmer as they stayed like that for a moment, meeting each other’s eyes; the crowd was long forgotten.

“So.” Someone cleared their throat. “What can I get you two lovebirds?”

Dean jerked away with such violence, he almost fell on his ass. “Jeez, Jo, you shouldn’t surprise an armed man like that,” he replied between clenched teeth. “I could have stabbed you or something.”

“Yeah, right.” The petite blonde cackled and slapped his arm. “So aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend?” she asked enthusiastically.

Dean glared as Jo looked at Cas and smiled like she wanted to eat him, while the angel shifted in his seat, looking more uncomfortable than when they had the whole tavern looking at them just a few moments before.

“Uh, this is Castiel. Cas,” Castiel turned his head in her direction curiously. “this is Jo.”

“Cas, huh?” She shot Dean a pointed look.

“Dean does not like my name,” he deadpanned.

“That’s not true,” Dean protested.

“That is what you said.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms on the table. “Oh, is this a term of endearment?”

Dean almost choked on his own saliva. “What?!” Dean managed to blurt out.

The blonde started laughing hysterically. _Oh, how Dean wished he could wipe that stupid smirk off of her face._

“How about you bring us some food, blondie?”

She huffed as if offended, but was betrayed by the smile plastered on her face that reached from ear to ear. “What’s it gonna be?”

“Whatever is the tavern's dish of the day and ale.”

“Steak and potatoes with ale for you.” She nodded. “What about you, Castiel?”

Cas looked lost for a moment before hiding it behind a neutral expression. “The same for me, please.”

“Two steaks and two mugs of ale coming right at ya.” She turned on her heels and back to the bar, yelling their orders to the kitchen.

Dean kept quiet until Jo was out of sight, then turned abruptly to Castiel. “Damn it, Cas, you can’t say stuff like that in front of people.”

“Why not?” He had a puzzled frown across his face that gave him an adorable squinty nose scrunch.

“Because,” Dean cleared his throat and looked down, “because those are the rules when you live in a society.”

“I see.” Castiel seemed to consider it for a moment as he stared at his hands. “I realize my people skills are rusty. I haven’t had many opportunities to learn your human manners.”

“Why didn’t ya?” Dean looked at him again.

Castiel glanced up, those clear blue eyes locked on him. “When I first got here.” He swallowed visibly and continued, “I didn’t have a good experience among humans.” There was a sadness poisoning his face and Dean tried his hardest not to reach out for him.

Cas gave him a small smile. “Besides, my brothers are not fans of yours, as I am sure you know. That did not help either.”

“Not Gabriel though,” Dean provided.

“Yes, my brother Gabriel is the exception.”

“What about you?” Dean didn’t let the strange nervousness building behind his ribcage affect his voice. “Which one are you? A fan or…?”

“Well, all the human contact I’ve had lately has been with you.” Cas smiled warmly. “And I am enjoying it very much, so far.”

There was a long silence while unblinking eyes stared at each other, and Dean had no idea why this kept happening because Dean wasn’t much of the creepy staring type, _except apparently now he was._

“There you go.” Jo’s voice interrupted the moment with the arrival of their meals, two mugs and a ceramic jug full of ale. “Enjoy, gentlemen.” She left and Dean wasted no time in swallowing a piece of meat and taking a long hard gulp of ale. Everything was delicious as usual.

Between two more mouthfuls, Dean noticed Cas casting a wary eye at his plate and his mug. Untouched. He held the edge of the plate, turning it around to look at the food. “Come on, dude, what are you waiting for?”

“This doesn’t look very hygienic, Dean.”

“Hyg—? What the hell are you talking about?” he said, pointing vigorously with his fork at his plate. “This is the best piece of steak you’ll eat in the whole kingdom.”

“I very much doubt that, Dean. We have the best cooks in our castle’s kitchen.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up and eat, will ya?” he groaned, shoving another forkful of food into his mouth.

Cas gave a hesitant nod and brought a piece of meat to his mouth. Dean stared while the angel bit down slowly, tasting the food, his lips sucking a small slice of potato before Castiel froze and lifted his face in surprise. “You were right, this is delicious.”

Dean hummed absently, not taking his eyes from Cas’ lips as the angel took another bite and moaned gently. Dean’s eyes lowered from his lips to his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as the angel gulped.

Cas moaned again, raspy, barely audible, and the room slowly got too hot for Dean’s liking. He turned away and took hold of the jug of ale, pouring some into Cas’ mug, before filling his own. Dean needed a goddamn drink for this, _fast._

“Here, try this.” Dean slid Cas’ mug towards him. “You’re gonna love it.”

“What kind of beverage is this?”

“It’s the good kind, Cas.” He gave him a slap on the back, careful to avoid the wings. “Now, stop talking and drink up.”

Castiel glared in response and brought the mug up to his nose, smelling it. Dean stuffed another forkful of food in his mouth, while Cas took a long swig of ale. Before Dean could even react or move out of the way, Cas’ eyes widened and he spat it out with such force, the whole table and nearby floor got splattered with ale, and all eyes were on them again.

Dean was silent for a moment, trying to take in what the hell had just happened. Cas, on the other hand, was full on panic mode, mumbling his apologies and trying to clean up the table as quietly as possible. “I had no idea the taste was so strong. I don’t like it, Dean,” Cas grumbled, continuing his attempt at cleaning the table. “Dean? _Dean!_ Say something.”

Dean gave him a blank stare and then burst out laughing, unable to stop the delighted sounds bubbling up in his throat. The laughter got louder than the situation asked for, but he couldn’t help the contented flutter in his chest or the way his eyes got wet as he curled one arm around his middle.

"I guess we can scratch that out from the list of things you like," Dean said, wiping away the tears and ignoring the curious heads that were turned toward the two of them.

"I fail to see why someone would put such distasteful liquid into their mouth." The angel scrunched up his face, making Dean laugh again.

"Oh man, it's been a while since I laughed liked this."

"I'm glad you're finding my misfortune enjoyable." Cas sulked.

"I am.” Dean smiled at the cute vision sitting next to him; out of all the angels in the world, he had to pick the grumpy one. “Now eat, I'll get you something else to drink."

The rest of the dinner passed lightly and before they knew it, the tavern was almost empty. Castiel paid the bill, they said goodbye to Jo and Ellen and left.

The night's breeze chilled Dean’s skin, previously warmed by the fireplace and emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. "Well." He turned to face Castiel and extended his hand. "This was fun."

The angel watched his hand for a moment before taking it into both of his. "Thank you for the lovely evening."

"You're welcome,” Dean uttered awkwardly, not knowing what else to say as they stared at each other. "You know, in a handshake, you're supposed to let go of the hand after."

Cas snapped from whatever daydream he was having and let go. "Ah, yes, I apologize." He looked at the ground, extending his wings a little, as if preparing to take off, but delayed for a moment.

"You know, uh," Dean cleared his throat and shifted his feet gracelessly. "if you want to, we can do this again, sometime. To help you with your people skills and all that."

Cas’ whole face seemed to light up at those words and something tender inside Dean fluttered at the sight. "I would love to, Dean. Whenever you think it is appropriate for you, I would lov—"

"I'm free tomorrow."

Castiel stopped his train of thought, his mouth hanging open for a moment, before his whole body softened at once. "Tomorrow is good." He smiled.

"You can meet me up at the forge when my work is done, about the same time as today.”

“All right, I’ll be there.”  Castiel spread his long wings, perfectly framed behind his strong body. The black feathers shone beautifully under the moonlight and, not for the first time, Dean wished he could close the distance between them and feel the feathers beneath his fingertips again like he had when they first met.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Dean couldn’t do more than nod in response as the angel gave one final impulse and went up in the air, disappearing through the dark sky.

Chevro was waiting impatiently for him when he got to her. “Yeah, I know, sorry for taking so long, we’re going now.”

They made their way home. When Dean got into bed that night and closed his eyes to the world, he could still feel a hint of a smile spread across his lips.

 


	5. Chapter 5

** Present day **

Dean had always loved days like this. Not too cold, the winter mostly behind, and just the right amount of warmth, enough to keep him cozy and contented. He liked it even better when he could stay inside and watch as the steady rain poured against the window, the soft little tapping noises easing the hard knots in his back, until he was pliant and snuggling on his armchair, a blanket wrapped over his body and his bare feet against the wooden floor, warm to the touch from the fireplace.

The fireplace prevailed bare and cold now: no more dying ashes needing to be scooped to the side in the morning, no dancing shadows backlit by the crackling flames, no stack of wood next to it, crudely chopped by his brother in the backyard and filling Dean’s bedroom walls with the scent of resin and burning wood. Now there was just… emptiness.

Dean watched it nonchalantly from where he stood and walked past it to the bathroom. He had avoided his brother for the last two weeks since their talk in the kitchen. Dean didn’t know what else to say, nor did he want to say anything. Dean had always been an expert at avoiding awkward conversations, especially if it involved _feelings._ Those kinds he avoided like the plague.

So that’s what he did. He was either taking care of his girl, talking to Jess or his mother, or receiving Bobby, Ellen and Jo. Something, anything, to avoid the deep conversation he knew his brother wanted to have.

Like right now. He locked himself in his bathroom, filled the bathtub and entered the warm water while looking out, appreciating the enjoyable sound of the rain hitting his window.

He looked down at his body through the water; a bunch of red crystals shone inside the tub, illuminating the water and his skin. That was another one of Sam’s inventions – small, flat pieces that, once in contact with the water, would react, releasing heat.

Dean had always loved Sam's experiments, ever since they were little. He would stare with wide eyes, while his little brother created away – stuff that went from small silly things, like dematerializing an apple in their living room, to bigger wonders, like on Dean's twentieth birthday. Sam had told him his birthday present was outside. That led to an explosion of bright colors that had illuminated the sky all night long and immersed the whole city in a sea of greens, warm reds, cerulean blues, dark yellows and every variety of color. It was the best birthday present Dean had ever gotten.

Sam had only been sixteen at the time, but he was already a prodigy. Inventors as they were called: a group of people like Sam who created all types of potions and spells, capable of imitating the natural magic inherent to every angel. The human body couldn't generate magic like angels did, but they could very well create it, as Sammy did. He was smart like that.

Dean never had any interest in angel magic, or all the craziness the Inventors brought into existence. No, Dean was a proud bladesmith. He liked his blades and his daggers. He loved creating the finest swords, and he was the best bladesmith in the damn kingdom, if he could say so. That’s all Dean was ever good at, that was his life, until that goddamned night when he naively had thought he would start a life with the one he loved. Instead, he had found Michael waiting for him with a group of angels. Rather than finding his happiness, he had met his hell. Dean closed his eyes and sank into the water, letting the silence inundate his thoughts instead.

Then his mind snapped back to the sound of bombs. He was back in hell, the cries of pain and the stench of burnt bodies invading his senses. Explosions and ashes polluted the air, and he covered his eyes as dirt filled his lungs. More explosions. It was so hot. His skin seemed to boil against the confinement of his uniform. A nearby bomb went off. He stopped hearing. Blood splattering across his face. More screams. Red and yellow all around him. Another stab. Bam. Another dead body on the ground. He kept going. _He always kept going._

With a muted scream, Dean emerged from the water, a sharply drawn gasp echoing throughout the bathroom. He tried to breathe through his nose. _Inhale, hold and exhale._ _You’re not there. Inhale, hold and exhale._ _You’re not there_. Dean repeated this mantra every time he felt another panic attack building behind his chest.

He stayed inside the bathtub longer than he needed. When he was done, he got out, dried himself up and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He wiped the steam off the mirror and watched his own reflection mocking his disheveled self. Dean sighed and grabbed the scissors.

Leaning over the sink, he began by cutting off his hair to its usual length, before turning his attention to his beard, shaving it in precise, methodical strokes. Once done, he washed out the leftovers of the cream and inspected his face. Aside, from a couple of long and thin cuts across his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes, his skin was as good as new and he looked like the proper thirty-seven year old that he was. Yes, he still looked like crap, but a younger, jaded version of it.

Dean turned around resolutely and returned to his bedroom. He had been cooped up inside for the past two weeks, and he needed to go out or he was going to lose his mind. He opened his wardrobe, the delicate smell of fresh cleaned clothes filling his nose. He picked out his favorite outfit and slowly tried it on: black leather pants that framed his strong legs perfectly, scooping down into matching goatskin boots, a pine-green hooded cotton shirt, with gauze-like knit fabric in strips wrapped around the sleeves. Above the long sleeved shirt, a deep brown oxhide vest that paired well with his open-fingered gloves. Dean was impressed with how everything still fit him after all this time.

His weapons awaited by the far corner of the room, untouched for all these years. Dean touched them lightly, then loaded them up. His quiver was set around his torso full with arrows, ready to be used. He grabbed his recurve bow and his sword - Leviathan, he had named it. A long double-edged sword, made of Mithril, carved into the shape of a heavy serrated blade with various shapes of barbs, of midnight blue and dark violet shades, with a winged hand guard in an inky-black color, like the rest of the hilt.

Dean put the sword on his belt and went downstairs to find his brother in their private library. His sharp silhouette against the light was outlined by the dark brown furniture and a large collection of books they had acquired throughout the years. Sam absently shuffled through the pages of a large book with a black cover and gold-engraved words Dean couldn’t discern.

“What are you doing?”

Sam still had his eyes on the book. “Just reading. There’s always new things to learn in my profession.” He closed the book quickly, put it away in one of the drawers in the desk and looked up at Dean. Whatever he was going to say, died on his tongue. “Wha– what,” he stuttered. “You’ve shaved.”

“Thanks for the news,” Dean joked.

“That’s amazing, Dean. You look fantastic.” He stood up and walked over to Dean, checking him closer, a furrow forming between his eyes. “Are you going out?”

“Yes.” Dean turned around to leave, but Sam stopped him.

“Care to tell me where you’re going?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know my mother was a hairy Goliath.”

“Dean.”

“I’m going to the Roadhouse, okay?”

“You can’t go there Dean, you know that.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” He slipped through his brother’s barricade and rushed through the kitchen and into the barn, to find his girl.

Sam was right on his heels. “Dean, you stubborn jerk, can’t you see it’s dangerous out there? If an angel sees you…”

Dean climbed onto Chevro and met Sam’s stern glare. “What I see, is that if I stay under house arrest a minute longer, I’m gonna go fucking apeshit on your ass.”

His brother sighed while massaging the bridge of his nose. _Goddamned drama queen_. “There are lots of people there. What if someone warns the angels? They’re gonna go to Michael and –”

“Listen, listen.” Dean cupped his hand to his ear. “Can you hear this?”

His brother snapped his head around with wide eyes. “No, what is it?”

“This is the sound of how much I care.” Dean put on his hood and prompted his mare to leave the barn.

“You’re such a jerk,” came Sam’s voice from behind. “H-hold on, at least let me go with you.”

“As long as it’s not to ruin the mood. We’re gonna get drunk. And pass out. And celebrate!” He considered what he said for a moment and added, “Not necessarily in that order.”

They headed to the Roadhouse. It had stopped raining, but Dean pushed his hood deeper over his head. The old town square was as imposing and beautiful as Dean’s memories of it.

They stopped by the old fountain and dismounted. Dean contemplated the water for an instant, the patterns of the daylight moving with the shifting little waves, almost hurting his vision when the reflections caught his eyes.

Dean saw Chuck on the opposite side of the square, doing his daily routine around the library. Another normal day at work. Dean envied that. Everyone seemed to have moved on with their lives, one normal day after the other. Yet, here he was, a foreigner in his own hometown, a complete stranger who didn’t belong. Only the mask of his old normal life kept what was rooting inside at bay.

“Dean?” His brother’s quiet voice snapped him from his daze.

“Um?”

“Are you okay?” Sam was looking at Dean as if at any second he was going to break like a damn porcelain doll, and he hated that.

“Peachy,” he urged the detached answer out of his mouth with a fake smile he knew wouldn’t fool his brother, but at least he could try. He trotted past Sam to the tavern. “Now, let’s get drunk.”

As soon as they entered the Roadhouse, Ellen was on them. “What the hell you boys think you’re doing?”

Dean exhaled slowly. Was it too much to ask for a quiet moment to have a few drinks in his favorite tavern? Jeez.

“That’s how you welcome your customers? Word of advice – that’s not good for the business.”

“Don’t you get smart on me, boy. You shouldn’t be in public. You’re on the run, remember? If an angel sees you here, they’ll go straight to Michael.”

“And since when do angels come to this part of town, huh?”

“Since the war started and they patrol the whole city. Some of them come here when their shift is over.”

They were starting to get some curious looks from around the tavern. The place wasn’t crowded at that time of the day, but still, Dean didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.

“All right, all right, I’ll just take a drink and go. Okay, boss?”

Ellen huffed dramatically, but left them alone to go serve the other customers. He followed Sam to one of the tables at the far corner where it was usually darker and emptier away from the fireplace. His brother gestured for Ellen to bring them two mugs of ale and they sat without talking as they waited for their drinks. Sam kept glancing at Dean before looking away again, his mouth opening and closing a few times, reminding Dean of a fish out of water.

When Ellen arrived with their drinks, Dean’s relief was short-lived, as the older woman sat at the empty chair in front of him.

“So, how are you doing?”

Dean was so damn tired of people asking him that question. He just wanted for everyone to leave him the fuck alone, so they could all go back to normal, instead of having this constant feeling that he didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

“As long as you keep filling my mug with ale, I’m great.”

She pressed her lips together and rubbed her forehead before turning her attention to Sam. “And how about you, son?”

“I’m good.” Sam sipped from his mug. “Thinking about going back to work.”

“But what about the angels?”

“It’s been a few weeks. We’ve been waiting to see if anyone would come looking for me, but so far nothing. I guess it’s safe to assume the angels are too busy with their war to worry about me.”

“Yeah, I think you have a point.” Ellen paused and contemplated Dean before speaking up again. “Your father has been asking ‘bout you. He wants to talk to you, to apologize.”

“Yeah, he can shove his apology right up his a—”

“All right, all right, I get the message. And for what it’s worth, I wanted to kick his stinky ass when I found out what he did.” She laced her fingers together. “Your father was never an example of good choices, but damn, this one takes the cake, let me tell ya. But he wanted me to tell you this. My job is done.” She got up, her palms flat on the table as leaned over. “Now you do what you feel is right, son. I will stand by you, no matter what you decide.” Dean nodded once, looking up to take in Ellen’s face. The corner of her mouth lifted as she winked at him. “I’m gonna bring you more ale. On the house.”

“Thanks, Ellen.” He didn’t need to say he wasn’t referring to the ale. She threw him a knowing look and walked away, disappearing through the door behind the balcony.

The day turned out much brighter with each cup of ale they drank and soon Dean felt his mind grow groggy and his thoughts become happier than they had been in a long time. Dean never wanted this feeling to end. He was tired of the constant weight crushing his chest, the constant sadness, anger, disappointment. The feeling of emptiness and numbness, like everything good he had ever felt had been ripped from him, leaving only these dark thoughts with no light or hope under the surface.

“You know I still have nightmares ‘bout it.” Sam started with a slurred voice and a red nose that made Dean want to giggle for no fucking reason. His brother wasn’t _that_ funny, but at this point, he was pretty sure he would laugh at anything that moved. Dean started to suspect Ellen had given him something else besides ale because the world turned into a freaking circus, a circus that was slightly spinning, which Dean would find strange, if he wasn’t already halfway gone and on the verge of giggling again. “Th’night the angels took you away.”

That made Dean sober up, his smile slipping away. Dean downed the rest of his drink and watched his little brother. He was beyond wasted.

“It’s s-so unfair, Dean. All these years you thought I had left you too.” Sam set down his mug with a smack and pointed a finger at Dean. “But I didn’t, I s-swear I didn’t, you have to b-believe me.” He rubbed away the tears that were filling his eyes and hiccupped.

“I know Sammy, s’okay.”

Sam looked at him as if offended. “N-no, s’not!” He shook his head vigorously. “I lost m’ big b-brother that night.” He hiccupped again and Dean pulled his mug away from him. “I thought you had left me, Dean. And I got s’ angry at you. I hated you for that.” Sam slapped his hand against his chest. “I w-was so selfish. I hated you n’ you needed me.” His hand clenched into a fist and he stopped fighting back the tears. “It hurts, Dean. It hurts s’ fuckin’ much.”

Sam’s sobs ran freely, harsh and ragged, while Dean could do nothing but hold his baby brother, like he had done so many times when they were kids and Sammy would wake up in the middle of the night after another nightmare, swearing that there were monsters under his bed. Dean would kiss his little forehead and promise him what their mother had also told Dean so many other nights when he too was younger and scared of the dark. “No monster can hurt you, Sammy, because angels are watching over you.”

Dean didn’t believe in that anymore, none of them did.

Dean held his brother tighter, until his sobs stopped and he was no longer shaking. When they let go, Sam was halfway to sleep and Dean got them both a bowl of soup. Sam was immediately gone after that, what was left of his tears still shimmering on his lashes as he snored against his own arms propped on the table.

It was late in the night by then and the tavern was practically empty. Dean helped Jo and Ellen clean the tables and the rest of the dishes while the remains of alcohol steadily left his body. When everything was done and Dean was back at the table, the sun had risen again and his brother was awake, his hands pressed to his head. “Ugh, why did you let me drink so much?”

Dean huffed. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle a few drinks.”

“Shhh… Lower your voice.”

The tavern’s door opened to the first customers of the day and Jo passed through them with the garbage of the night before and waved her goodbye as her shift was over. Ellen should be gone soon as well, but Dean couldn’t spot her from where he was sitting. He heard the front door sliding open again as an angel walked in. Her white wings gave her away immediately and Dean felt Sam tensing beside him. The vividly colored cloak floated behind her, as she stepped inside and towards the bar, removing the hood when she stopped in front of Ash.

Dean clenched his fingers around his mug in a white-knuckled grip and stared as the angel tugged a lock of long red hair behind her ear. Her pale skin and green eyes contrasted with the fire coloring in her head and Dean would have recognized her anywhere. Anna. Cas’ sister. Dean had liked her once. She always had a kind spirit, much like Cas, though she was similar to Gabriel in a way, a rebellious angel who fought against her own family’s ideas.

He needed to get out of there before she could see him. Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him to his feet to follow him. On the far wall behind them was the back door Jo had just passed through to put the garbage in the back alley. But before they could reach it, Anna’s eyes snapped up and across to them. Dean reached for his hood and pulled it impossibly low as he continued his race to the outside.

“Sam?” came the velvet voice.

“Keep going,” Sam muttered behind him. “I’ll stall her.”

Dean didn’t look back. He pushed the door open, the cold air abrading his face as he stepped into the narrow street. Jo was nowhere to be seen. Looking around frantically, he spotted a large pile of waste a few steps to his left. He didn’t have time to reach the end of the street, so he crouched next to the garbage and tried to make himself invisible behind it.

Dean heard the voices getting closer and he didn’t need to look up to know that Anna and his brother were coming out as well. “I thought… It looked like, I don’t know, are you sure you didn’t see anyone coming in this direction?”

“Yup, I would have seen if there was someone here.” Sam laughed awkwardly. “That’s one of the perks of being tall, you can see above the crowd, right?” Dean wanted to punch him for his awful lying skills.

“Right…” Anna replied and evoked some of her grace, filling the street with a pale light of red and green shades. Dean hugged his knees, forcing his body to be as small as possible and praying that the lights wouldn’t give away his location.

Damn the angels and their stupid graces with their colorful lights. He was tired of these lights that always seemed to follow him wherever he went. Dean had seen these many times, though the one he would always have imprinted on his brain belonged to much softer hands, in much more tender moments, shaped in a way that never hurt him, only soothed him instead, making him whole, time and time again.

_He freaking hated it._

“Anna, Sam?” Ellen’s voice came from the end of the street, a few steps in front of Dean. “What are you doing back here?” She tramped along the street and came to a halt next to Dean and the stack of garbage, pretending that she couldn’t see him.

“Ellen? Oh, was it you that passed through here a few moments ago?”

“Yes, I was putting some supplies in the storage room. Is there something wrong?” She had a poker face and Dean would have believed her if not for the vein popping out in her neck.

“Ah, that explains it.” Anna’s voice regained its usual ease as she went on. “There’s nothing wrong, Ellen, sorry for disturbing you.”

Ellen’s smile stayed put for a while as Dean heard the steps fading inside. When she finally turned to him the smile was gone, replaced by a line between her eyebrows. Ellen bowed her head and scowled at him. “You owe me one. Now get out of here before I sell your ass to the angels myself.”

Dean scrambled to his feet, snuggling Ellen in his arms and kissing her cheek. “You’re awesome.”

She squirmed in his embrace, trying to keep her angry face, but not making any real effort to get away from him. “Go before any other angel sees you.” She shooed him away and, with one last kiss, he pulled away and left the street heading for where his horse was waiting for him.

The streets were empty this early in the morning and Chevro’s pace was quick and steady. The cold morning’s breeze filled his lungs and made it harder to breathe. He pulled at the hood over his head and tried to erase the thoughts that invaded his mind, Sam and Ellen’s words haunting his way home.

The worst of all was seeing his brother trembling and sobbing on his shoulder, taking the blame for something that Dean had brought upon himself when he had let himself get caught by tender arms and warm lips. Dean was the only one to blame for his little brother getting hurt, and he hated himself with all his being. Then, there was the whole deal with his father – he wanted to talk to Dean and Dean wasn’t sure if he would have it in him to face the man, knowing what he did.

Not for the first time, Dean cursed the skies and everything else under the sun and he wished he could forget all of this.

When Dean got home, there were no signs of Jess being awake and he was grateful for that. He didn’t wait for his brother to get home, he locked himself in his bedroom with a bottle of ale, drinking himself into oblivion and away from the turmoil of emotions that were trying to crack him.

  

 

** Four years ago **

Dean supposed it wasn’t right to laugh his ass off over some poor bastard’s dancing ability. _Or lack thereof._  As it was, Dean couldn’t give two fucks about that when he was having the time of his life poking fun at the freaking angel of the lord moving around in his living room in a poor attempt at ‘dancing’, as he had called it. In Dean’s opinion, calling it dance was a crime that should be severely punished. Though Dean wasn’t sure what kind of _punishment_ he would like to give Cas.

“You know, jumping around and slightly moving your feet isn’t dancing. Seriously, dude, who taught you to dance like this? I will beat their ass.”

Cas glared at him, but didn’t stop his dance routine with his imaginary partner. “Gabriel is the finest dancer I know, Dean.”

“You don’t know many dancers, do you?”

Castiel stopped mid-turning and made his ‘I will smite your ass’ look. Half of Dean found that look a complete turn on, though his other half suspected that pissing off an angel of the lord that could totally kick his ass, was probably not his brightest idea.

“You’re cute when you’re pissed.” The words were out of Dean’s mouth before he could get a damn grip on himself.

Castiel folded his arms and squinted at him. “I’m not cute, Dean. I’m a warrior, a soldier. I’m an angel.”

“Yeah, calling yourself an angel doesn’t really help your cause, dude.”

“I thought you had agreed to help me. This,” he gestured between the two of them, “isn’t helping.”

“Oh, believe me, this is helping me a lot.” Dean grinned.

As much as Dean was glad that, after knowing Castiel for more than two months, he had finally found something the angel couldn’t do (well, that and how socially awkward he was, but that didn’t really count since Dean found that extremely endearing), this was a serious matter for Cas. He was getting increasingly nervous about the upcoming bonfire. Dean didn’t understand why that was such a big deal, but Cas had nagged him for days with how bad of a dancer he was and how he had to spend less time with Dean, because he needed to start having ‘dance lessons.’

Dean had been hit with an unexpected sinking feeling in his gut when Cas had mentioned that and next thing he knew, he was offering himself to give Cas those goddamn lessons.

So here they were, with three weeks left until the angels’ bonfire and he had no idea how he was going to teach Cas to dance in such a short time. The guy was a friggin’ mess.

“This is not funny, Dean.” Castiel was practically growling at this point.

Dean raised his hands and stepped forward, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. “All right, c’mere.”

They stood in front of each other and Dean extended his left hand. “Give me your hand.” Cas took it and Dean pulled him closer. “Now your left arm goes around my shoulder.”

“Why can’t I lead?” Cas retorted.

“Until you learn how to dance properly, I’m not letting you take me anywhere, capiche?”

Castiel pouted, but wrapped his arm around Dean.

“Right. Now, forget everything Gabe told you. Counting the steps, following a sequence, it’s all good, but the most important thing is to feel it.”

Cas tilted his head in that adorable way Dean was getting so used to and furrowed his eyebrows. “Feel it?”

“Yeah, feel the song, Cas. Feel the rhythm and move to the beat. Just close your eyes and hear it.”

The angel did as Dean asked, a small crease forming between his brows, and Dean had to resist the urge to lean in and kiss it away. The soft melody kept filling the room. Dean didn’t know the song, it was a vinyl Cas had brought from the castle, but he quite enjoyed the soothing notes echoing around them.

“Now move,” he whispered and they started dancing. One step to the right, then another to the left and, not long after, they were gliding through the floor, describing perfect circles around the room. Cas stepped on him a few times along the way, but then surrendered to Dean’s lead, following his movements, perfectly in sync.

Castiel opened his eyes for the first time since they had started and gazed up at him with bright eyes and flushed pink cheeks, making something warm burst in Dean’s chest. “See? You’re nailing this.” They wore matching goofy grins as they moved around the room. “Though, word of advice? If you wanna get any luck at that bonfire, don’t stand so far from your dancing buddy. Pull them to you, dude, make it more intimate, you know?” He tightened his grip around Cas’ waist, bringing their bodies closer. “Like this.” His voice got low and thick as the angel’s warm body leaned against his.

Castiel nodded slowly in response and deepened his hold around Dean’s shoulders, bringing their chests together and their faces awfully close. Dean’s heart was pounding hard in his chest and he did his best to ignore it. He was only giving Cas some tips. God knew how the guy must have had trouble getting laid with all the weird ass shit he said and did sometimes. Dean was only helping a brother out.

“And then,” he swallowed, “if you’re really into them, you can bring your faces together. Like this.” He leaned forward, resting the side of his head against the angel’s, his soft hair prickling against Dean’s skin.

Dean didn’t know what got into him as he rubbed his hand against the small of Cas’ back. The angel exhaled a trembling and long breath against his neck and Dean closed his eyes. A terrifying feeling warming his chest and he tried to bury it because Dean was only pretending to be Cas’ dance partner during the bonfire. It wasn’t like this was the real deal.

Castiel’s hold around him tightened, his fingertips moving up, slowly, until he was caressing Dean’s neck. Dean knew he should stop whatever was happening, because whatever this was, it was wrong, a mistake and they shouldn’t be doing this. Cas was an angel, for fuck’s sake. Angels were dicks and Dean hated them. Even though, if Dean was being honest, Cas was his exception.

He pulled the angel into him, nuzzling behind his ear and breathing in his scent. Cas smelled like soft grass and the gentle breeze of a warm spring day. It was intoxicating. Castiel sighed a happy, pleased sound, tangling his fingers in Dean’s hair.

There was a comfortable silence while they moved to the song’s rhythm. The soft symphony and Cas’ warm fingers caressing Dean’s hair lulled his senses and his mind, until he felt the angel’s soft lips brushing against his earlobe. “And what if I want to kiss that person, Dean? What then?”

Dean’s mouth went dry.

“T-then…” Dean could hear his voice fail him and he cursed himself for letting it happen. He swallowed hard and tried again. “Then you gotta look them in the eye. Make some dumb excuse, but the goal is eye contact. Especially with eyes like yours.” Dean felt his cheeks burning. “I don’t know man, talk about the weather for all I care. Pretend that you’re watching the sky or some shit, but then look at them. Make the _connection_ , y’know?" Dean laughed breathlessly. “You gotta be like a smooth predator, don’t make it too obvious that you’re going for the kill, okay? And smile, never forget to smile.”

“I can be a smooth predator,” Cas murmured, his voice laced with determination that sent a shiver down Dean’s spine.

They pulled back and as their eyes met, all the air left Dean’s lungs. Cas’s eyes were dark and filled with want and Dean was sure they would match his own. Dean had no idea what the hell they were doing, but he was too far gone to care, unable to look away, even if he wanted to. “Once you made eye contact, you get closer.”

Castiel parted his lips and Dean let his gaze rest on them, instinctively licking his own lips before leaning in. “And when you’re ready,” he whispered as their noses touched lightly. Cas lowered his own eyes to Dean’s mouth before closing them completely. “You kiss.” He felt Cas’ warm breath meeting his skin with a promise of gentle lips over his own. Dean closed his eyes, longing to taste those plush pink lips, to bite down gently, soft little whimpers escaping Cas’ thr—

He heard the front door opening and his brother’s voice announcing his return.

_Shit._

It all happened at once. Dean stumbled back in an effort to put as much distance between the angel and himself as possible. The song had stopped somewhere along the way and Cas had curled his wings around the two of them without Dean even noticing. Before he knew it, he was tripping over one of the wings, a curse leaving his lips as he fell flat on his ass.

“Dean?” Castiel and his brother were looking at him with similar expressions of confusion and wasn’t that just splendid.

“Hey, Sam. How’s it goin’?” Dean waved in a failed attempt to push the awkwardness of the situation aside.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Sam asked, ignoring Dean’s question and noticing the surroundings. “What’s going on?” he added slowly.

Dean opened his mouth, not sure what to say, but Cas beat him to it. “Dean offered himself to teach me the proper way of dancing.”

Sam snorted.

Dean could feel his cheeks warm, but he took the hand Cas was holding out in front of him and rose to his feet. “Are you all right?” Cas’ voice was as soft as his smile.

“Yeah,” Dean reassured him before moving his attention to his brother again. Sam was giving him a funny look. Dean glared at him. “Shut it, Sasquatch. Can’t a guy do a favor around here?”

“Sure, Dean. Whatever.” Sam smirked and turned around, disappearing into the kitchen. “You staying for dinner, Castiel?”

“I don’t want to give you any troub–”

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean interrupted him. “You never tried my homemade burgers, which is a damn sin if you ask me.” He reached for Cas’ shoulder and let his hand linger there for a moment. “It will be worth it, I promise.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Cas replied fondly, pressing into Dean’s touch.

“Awesome.” Dean grinned back. “Come on. You’ll have the best freaking meal of your life. You’ll never want to leave this house again after this.”

“I can imagine that,” Cas murmured, locking eyes with him. Dean fumbled in his spot, a little out of breath, before gesturing for the angel to follow him into the kitchen.

Time passed quickly as Dean prepared their meal. The conversation flowed from the bonfire to Sam’s animated interest about angel’s magic. They had never had this much contact with an angel before and Dean could see, from where he stood by the kitchen’s sink, how excited his brother was to finally have an opportunity to ask all of these questions.

“Seriously Sam, quit treating Cas like one of your lab rats.”

Sam looked up from the table, shooting daggers out of his eyes. “I like learning things, sue me.”

Turned out Castiel was even more of a nerd than Sammy and was just as enthusiastic to share his life experiences and to ask quite a few questions of his own about Sam’s work. Dean just looked heavenward and questioned his life choices.

Cas attempted to help him out, but Dean refused every time. He much rather have Cas and his brother continue their passionate conversation, while he quietly finished their dinner. Their soothing voices and gentle laughs, along with the delicious smell of food, all warmed the kitchen, as Dean stole glances at Cas. It was intimate, safe and cozy. There was a sense of _right_ about it and Dean allowed himself to get immersed in all of that.

Dinner was ready not long after and they dove into it like they hadn’t seen food in weeks. Dean was proud to say it was rather delicious, and judging by the pornographic sounds Cas was making, he also approved.

“It’s that good, huh?” Dean chuckled.

Cas hummed in response and chewed slowly, making happy little sucking sounds as he did so. He had his eyes closed, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed and Dean couldn’t take his eyes away from him. Dean shifted in his seat, his pants suddenly too tight for comfort.

Castiel opened his eyes at last, his focus on Dean while pointing at his plate. “This makes me very happy.”

Dean barely stopped himself from puffing out his chest in pride because this, seeing Castiel happy and being taken care of with Dean’s food, Dean could live off of this alone.

“So, Castiel, what’s up with the dance lessons?” Sam spoke up, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

Castiel arched his eyebrow to Sam. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he pointed his fork at Castiel, “why the urgency to learn it?” He glanced at Dean before continuing. “Trying to win over the ladies?”

“There’s no lady,” Castiel replied with a questioning expression.

“Oh, guys then?” Sam kept glancing at Dean and he blinked back, completely at a loss of what the hell his brother was getting at.

“Angels don’t care about genders,” Castiel continued.

“So, let’s say that a guy was hitting on you. Like, I don’t know, Dean for example.” Sam slapped Dean’s shoulder hard and he choked on his food. “Would be okay with that?”

“The fuck, Sam?” Dean managed to gasp between coughing his lungs out.

“I wouldn’t mind either way, no,” Castiel stated simply, ignoring Dean’s protests and staring resolutely at Sam.

“I see.” Sam smiled smugly as Dean stared, dumbfounded by the current development.

Dinner went by quickly and they were back in the living room soon after. The conversation went on through the night and Dean forced an occasional grunt or nod into the conversation. Coming up with anything more than that, though, proved to be a struggle when his eyelids were growing steadily heavier. He dozed off somewhere in between the soft, quiet chuckles rumbling from Cas’ lips.

Lean fingers pulled his head at some point, shifting Dean’s body to lie down on the couch and tucking his head on a warm, soft object. A few gentle strokes on his hair lulled him back to sleep and Dean was gone before he could even register what had rudely woken him up.

When Dean opened his eyes again it was dark outside. A hand was caressing his head, while another was placed over his chest. His body was stretched on the couch, his head on someone’s lap. Dean looked up to see soft blues watching him back.

Dean startled. “Shit, Cas, watching other people while they’re sleeping? Kinda creepy, dude.”

“I’m sorry.” The hand on his hair stopped abruptly and Dean sort of missed it. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but you looked so peaceful sleeping, it was a shame to wake you.”

Dean rubbed his eyes and looked around. “Where’s Sam?”

“Your brother is sleeping. He wanted me to wake you when you fell asleep on my shoulder, but I refused.”

“I fell as—” Dean felt his cheeks burning up. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s fine.” Castiel smiled down at him and ran his hand through Dean’s hair again; he closed his eyes for a moment before Cas’ words cracked them open again. “It has been rather… enjoyable.”

Dean clenched his jaw and looked down, noticing for the first time why he was feeling so warm. One of Cas’ wings wrapped him up in a blanket of feathers. Dean’s heart skipped a beat and he reached out on instinct, raking his fingers through the delicate feathers like he had been wanting to do for weeks. Castiel jerked away and Dean stopped immediately.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Cas shook his head slightly. His voice was low, barely audible. “They’re just a little sensitive.”

Dean’s hand hovered above the wing; now that he had touched it, he couldn’t control the urge to do it again. “Can I?” he asked, praying for a positive answer.

Castiel remained quiet for a while and Dean felt his hope wavering. The angel bit his bottom lip and nodded his consent, and Dean nearly jumped up and down in excitement. His fingertips crossed the remaining inch separating them from the dark feathers and touched the wing, lightly at first, more determined after, brushing the elegant feathers as gently as he could. They were thicker and warmer than he remembered, the black silk-like surface flowing beneath his touch with ease, trembling and fluttering as Dean continued to caress them.

Dean glanced up. Cas had his eyes closed, his mouth parted slightly, while his hand fisted around Dean’s shirt. Dean couldn’t help but grin and continued to stroke the long wing. “They’re beautiful, Cas. Can you open them up for me?”

Castiel hummed and stretched the massive wings to their fullest. They were magnificent and Dean wasn’t ashamed of the gasp that escaped his lips. When he was done admiring them, Castiel folded his wing back protectively around Dean.

“They’re amazing, Cas. All big and strong. And black, that’s a pretty badass detail.”

Castiel huffed. “There’s nothing amazing about them being black, Dean.”

Dean arched his eyebrows, baffled that Cas would say anything but praise about his wings. “Why not?”

“That’s a story for another time.” He still had his eyes closed. His head rested against the couch as he shifted and pressed his wing around Dean tighter. “Now sleep,” Cas hushed him. His slender fingers buried in Dean’s hair, making it extremely hard for Dean to fight against his request. He closed his eyes and held on to the wing, pulling it up to his face to nuzzle it tenderly until he fell asleep.

  

 

** Present day **

Dean woke up silently sobbing, his body was sore and covered in cold sweat. Between vivid images of his friends dying in battle and the phantom feathery feeling encircling his body, he didn’t know what stung the most. He stayed frozen for the longest time, lying on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling. “Fuck this," he muttered to the empty room.

This messed up situation was going on for too fucking long. It needed to stop. There was nothing he could do about the haunting memories of all of those he left behind at Micalzo’s battlefield. But he could fix some of this shit storm.

He sat up with a grunt, sliding the blankets off of him, while his stubborn brain kept screaming at him – _go back to bed, you fucker_   – for the effort. His head was pounding and he made a mental note to stay away from ale for the next hundred years.

Dean thanked whoever was listening for the fact that his brother was still asleep when he got downstairs. He ignored the low grumble from his empty stomach and was out and on his way when the first rays of sunshine washed the morning sky in red and yellow.

He decided not to take his Baby with him, rather preferring to stretch his legs and let the morning breeze clear his mind while he walked. Dean kept his head low and his face hidden behind the safety of his green hooded cloak, even though the roads were almost empty this early in the morning. He inhaled deeply and forced his muscles to relax as he kept moving.

Dean’s steps faltered as he reached his destination and he wished he had taken a slower pace. He wiped the sweat from his hands on his pants and purposefully ignored the way they trembled as he reached for the front door and knocked.

After several beats of silence, Dean started to convince himself that this had been a mistake. He turned around right when the door opened and the petite brunette woman emerged behind it.

“Dean?” Her brows snapped together.

Dean let out a harsh breath and let the familiar sight of the woman in front of him, that he loved as a mother, calm his hammering heart. “Hey, Ellen. I’m here to see my father.”


	6. Chapter 6

** Present day **

Out of all the ways Dean had imagined his reencounter with his father, finding him swaying back and forth on the old iron swing chair by the large window, with his head tilted in the direction of the sunlight, wasn’t one of them.

John coughed hoarsely against a concrete gray rag and clutched hard at his chest before bringing up his pipe to his lips. Muted sunlight filtered through the dim smoke coming out of his mouth. Of course the old bastard wouldn’t quit smoking even with his life hanging by a thread. He turned his head to the side and Dean stepped back, suddenly needing the protection of the darkness that kept his father’s eyes away from him.

Another step back and he collided with Ellen’s soft hands, noticing for the first time that he was shaking. “It’s okay, son,” she reassured him, the light in her eyes giving him a new strength to continue what he had come here to do.

Before he could chicken out for good, Dean stepped out of the shadows. He could pinpoint the moment John saw him, his expression changing from dull to unreadable, and Dean felt his own resolution crippling. His breath hitched and grew wild as he crossed the room.

“Dean,” his father breathed out. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“Yeah,” Dean gave a bitter laugh, “that makes two of us.”

John hesitated, then motioned for Dean to sit down. Dean refused, his attempt at shaking his head no coming out as a violent jerk.

“You look good, son.”

“You look like crap.”

John smiled sadly. “Yes, I guess time finally caught up to me.”

“That’s why you came clean? Trying to get back to _His_ good graces before you kick the bucket?”

John shook his head and looked away, taking another drag from the pipe.

“Smoking isn’t the wisest decision.” Dean sat heavily on the large brown couch that took up half of the center of the room, and smoothed down his leather vest. “Y’know, if you’re applying for a saint job and all that crap.”

John glanced at him again, his eyes burning with sorrow and it was Dean’s turn to look away. “I made my peace with dyin’ a long time ago, I just need to do one more thing before I can go.” Dean gulped, his father’s eyes heavy on him. “I want to tell you what happened. You deserve to know.”

“Well, how considerate of you, John,” Dean spat out the words and his father flinched like he had just been slapped.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” The vulnerability in his father’s expression was too much for Dean to bear. He needed to run as far away as possible from the man, his inevitable death and the absurd hope in his eyes that any of this could ever be fixed. He jumped to his feet and turned around.

“I can’t do this.”

“Dean, please just let me explain.” His father was on his feet as well, but didn’t leave his place.

“What will you explain, huh?” Dean swirled around to face him, his fists clenched at his sides. “Can you explain the fact that you joined the enemy? Can you explain why you sent your own son to war? Why you helped them kidnap me and send me away to a certain death?”

Dean drew in a sharp breath and didn’t let the burn in his eyes stop him. “Everyone I had to kill to keep myself alive all these years. All the nights afraid and convinced that my own family had abandoned me?” He was nearly screaming, but he didn’t care. “All the times I would pray for a letter from you,” Dean shifted forward, “for a sign that you were going to get me out of there? Can you explain that, huh?”

Dean turned away and refused to let the tears run free. “You left me…” he whispered. “And because of what, Dad? Because of my love for…” And damn him if his voice broke with the next syllable that felt heavier than anything else in the last three years. “…Cas?”

“Dean.” John tried to reach for him, but Dean jerked away. “It was because of Cas, you’re right.” He heard his father coughing again – deep, thick waves of air ripping out of his body and forcing him to sit again. Dean didn’t turn to watch. “It was because of him, and it’s because of him that you need to hear me now.”

Dean turned to him. “You’re making no sense.”

“He’s innocent, Dean!” John shook his head firmly. “You were both victims. He didn’t leave, son. He didn’t leave you.”

 

 

** Four years ago **

His father would be here soon and this was a fucking terrible idea. An ‘I’m gonna shoot myself in the face’ kind of terrible idea and Dean was ready to abort the mission and just bolt. “Please remind me why are we doing this?”

“Sweetie.” Mary looked up from the pork she was roasting over the open fire. “Don’t you think it’s about time I met this friend of yours? I’ve heard so much about him, you’ve got me curious, son.”

“It’s… it’s not like I talk about him that much.” Dean bit his lower lip.

“Please! Have you heard yourself lately? I feel like I know him and I never even met him,” Charlie said, returning to the kitchen. “It’s kind of disgusting, really.” She smiled at him. “And adorable.”

Dean rolled his eyes skyward. “And who invited you again?”

“Who needs an invitation when I finally get to see your angel?” Charlie said cheerfully.

“He’s not _my_ angel.” Dean crossed his arms and definitely did not pout.

“Right.” She grabbed an enormous basket of fresh garlic bread and took it to the dining room to be served with the rest of the ridiculous banquet she and Mary had been preparing all morning.

Dean huffed. So maybe he had talked about Cas _a little more than necessary_  in these last months and admittedly that had been a mistake. It had already been hard to keep track of his own feelings as they had grown faster than he could say _I-have-a-freaking-crush-on-Cas._  And that had been months ago; now, if Dean was being honest, it was something much deeper than a fleeting crush, even if he still wasn’t quite ready to name the feeling yet.

Charlie, and sometimes his mother, kept making leading comments about his feelings for Cas and Dean was pretty much terrified they had figured it out – or _worse_ , that they would be too obvious today and _Cas would figure it out._  Especially because Dean was still not sure if Cas felt the same way about him. On top of everything, Dean feared how his father was going to react when he saw Cas today.

Dean wiped his sweaty hands against the smooth fabric of his pants; today was pretty much a shipwreck waiting to happen and Dean wasn’t sure he was going to survive it. Still, Mary Winchester wasn’t one to be messed with once she got an idea into her head and Dean was forced, under threat of permanent loss of pie privileges, to ask Castiel for lunch at his parents’ house.

So he had met with Cas two days earlier – at the beach, because apparently Castiel was a freaking lizard and loved to spend hours on end under the sunlight, burying his feet in the sand and playing with the waves, his black wings spread widely against the clear sky.

Cas was walking along the edge of the water, gentle waves kissing his feet, as Dean stepped into view. Cas looked up with a warm smile in his lips and soft little webs forming at the corners of his eyes, beaming brighter than the rays of light that melted the cold autumn morning away. He looked stunning like this – his footprints happily marked in the sand, with a halo made of sunshine, his dark wings gently flowing in the wind and those gorgeous shades of blue that set Dean’s heart into an erratic dance.

In moments like this, Dean kept finding it harder not to voice the feelings steadily bubbling inside him; feelings that only grew stronger each time Dean noticed the way Cas’ wings would fold around him whenever Dean lingered in his space a few seconds too long, or anytime he caught the angel glancing at his lips when he thought Dean wasn’t looking.

Dean stuttered his way through the invitation, but Cas didn’t seem to mind if the way he was smiling was anything to go by. Dean reached for one of the feathers, caressing it between his index finger and thumb, and tried his best to keep his heart from soaring out of his chest when the angel replied, “Yes,” and leaned into the touch. Dean had decided right then and there that perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea after all, if it meant seeing Cas happy and interacting with Dean’s family.

Of course, right now, with his father on the way as well as his… _the_ angel, Dean was regretting all his life choices. The knock on the door ended the time to plan his grand escape. Charlie squealed, running to the door and Dean covered his eyes with his hand. This was wrong, everything was wro—

Charlie’s gasp pierced through his thoughts and Dean opened his eyes. Cas stood tall and wrapped in the light that was spilling from the front door. His long silver-blue cloak floated gently around him, framed by dark feathers before he tucked the wings securely behind him and drew his hood back from his wind-ruffled hair. Cas smiled at Mary, who was now by the doorway, and Dean felt himself blushing against the sudden urge to cover that smile with his lips, because _his friggin’ mother_  was standing right there next to him and Charlie was already sending him meaningful looks. Dean forced his attention back to his mother, trying to keep his heart in check.

“Castiel, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” Mary accepted Cas’ gifts: a strawberry black forest cake made by one of the castle’s private cooks and a bouquet of flowers.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Winchester, it’s good meeting you too.” Cas smiled softly at Mary.

“Please call me Mary, sweetheart. Come on in.”

Cas lingered by the doorway, his hand brushing the doorframe before he stepped forward, noticing Dean for the first time; his face lit up when he sighed, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean swallowed audibly and said weakly, “I’m glad you’re here, man,” pretty certain that Cas hadn’t even heard him as the angel passed by Dean and into the dining room behind Mary. _Fucking pathetic._  Dean groaned and covered his eyes, flinching when Charlie came closer, murmuring, “He really is dreamy.”

Dean sat at the table along with his family. Jess and Sam were there too, but his eyes were trained on the angel next to him, studying the small crinkles in his nose when he laughed or the blush that burned his cheeks rosy red when he noticed Dean staring - but he couldn’t stop, not when Dean finally got to see Cas interacting with his family.

Cas touched his wrist, fingers warm and soft around the skin, and whispered, “Are you all right, Dean?”

Dean realized belatedly that he was still staring; his voice was thick with emotions, but he was grinning when he replied, “I’m great.”

His mother showed up with the bouquet Castiel had given her, beautifully arranged in one of their best flower vases. A satisfied smile lit up her face as she placed it at the center of the table. “These are wonderful, Castiel.”

“And they smell even better, what are these?” Jess asked. “They’re so pretty.”

“These are button poms.” Castiel leaned forward and pointed to one of the small, white flowers. “Then there are pink roses,” Castiel continued, “the darker ones are miniature roses, these are peachy mini carnations and the violet ones are limonium flowers.” Castiel blushed softly while sitting back again. “They are all from our garden, I grew them myself.” He looked so proud of himself that Dean made a mental note to ask Castiel more about his garden later.

“Oh wow, really?” Charlie wasn’t the only one gaping at that revelation. “Do you take care of the whole garden? Because that thing is huge.”

“Yes,” Cas shrugged, “well, Inias helps me sometimes. But it’s mostly me.”

“Who’s Inias?” Charlie asked in a way-too-innocent-to-be-actually-innocent voice. “Is he your boyfriend?” Dean whipped his head sharply between Charlie and Cas, not sure if he truly wanted to know the answer.

“Oh no.” Cas chuckled. “He is my cousin.”

“That’s freaking awesome, Cas.” Dean patted Cas’ shoulder a little stronger than intended. “I mean,” Dean scratched his neck and gulped. “the way you take care of such a big garden, that’s quite a big deal.” Dean hoped the relief that washed over him wasn’t evident in his voice, though he instantly forgot all his worries when Castiel looked up at him, brimming with pride at the easy praise, his face so open with joy Dean couldn’t stop the fluttering in his stomach.

“It’s one of my favorite things to do. It helps pass the time when my brothers are off trying to maintain peace. More so lately.” His face hardened and the air was suddenly heavy and somber.

A pregnant silence filled the room, until Sam tentatively spoke. “But the war is almost certain, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.” Cas nodded once sharply.

“And will you join your brothers if that happens?” someone asked, but Dean didn’t register who, he was focused on Castiel now, dreading the answer and the deep frown building up on the angel’s face.

“I did my time of war.” Cas stiffened and blinked slowly. “Not anymore.”

Dean reached for him and leaned closer, not caring that his family was watching, his hand landing on the small of Cas’ back and rubbing slow circles against the soft fabric. “Hey,” he said, hoping to pull Cas out of his own thoughts. Cas lifted his head and the pain staining those pools of blue made Dean’s chest ache. “It’s okay, it’s over now.”

Cas heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. “It’s far from over, Dean.” Dean’s heart sank in his chest and before he knew it, his hand had found Cas’ under the table. The surprised expression on the angel’s face made Dean regret his spur of the moment decision before Cas’ face softened and he laced his fingers with Dean’s.

Dean was never much on the holding hands; his love life was made up of one night stands, where the urgency of the moment never left much room for more. Dean didn’t cuddle, he didn’t hold hands and he would be gone before the person even had the chance to ask him to stay.

Still, watching Cas holding his gaze, he couldn’t stop his heart from making a back flip when Cas tightened his fingers around his. His slim, soft thumb drawing lazy patterns across the skin on the back of Dean’s hand and dammit if that didn’t feel amazing.

Someone cleared their throat and Dean was suddenly painfully aware he had momentarily forgotten that his family was still in the room with them. He felt a wave of heat creeping up his neck and pointedly ignored the funny looks as he got back to the plate in front of him. His hand still curled around Cas’.

The rest of lunch was pretty laid back, even with his mother and Charlie’s knowing looks, Dean had managed not to embarrass himself so far. As expected his family fell in love with Cas and Dean could relate to that – if anyone knew how quickly you could get wrapped up in everything the angel was, it was Dean.

They had just started dessert when John showed up, his heavy boots thudding into the room and faltering in sync with Dean’s heart when he reached the dining room.

It wasn’t like Dean thought his father would beat Cas up or something. Dean’s mother had assured him everything would be fine. _It will be good for your father,_  she had told Dean with a confidence he was finding hard to have right now. _He needs to learn that not all angels are bad_. Yeah, right.

Dean was certain his father would rather sell his left kidney than to trust an angel, ever. Soul suckers, that’s what John called them. Ever since they were kids his father had taught them to stay the hell away from angels. _The real monsters in this world have fucking wings and live among us,_  he had shouted after another one of his long trips, already drunk out off his ass. Sammy had protested then that that couldn’t be true because Dean had promised him angels were watching over them. John had laughed sharply in reply, changing his attention to his older son and Dean had earned a slap and a burning cheek for his belief.

Dean had stopped making that promise after that night, too ashamed by the memory of John’s scorn. He wanted to learn how to be a good son and gain his father’s approval.

Until he was sixteen and everything changed. His father had come back from another trip sooner than expected and had caught Dean making out with another boy in his bedroom. The wave of embarrassment was nothing compared to the guilt when Dean noticed the look of disappointment and anger in his father’s eyes.

So Dean had learned how to be a disappointment to his father instead – even though he did his best to change that, parading a different girl each week by the house for his father to see, and hooking up with guys in the back of an alley or a sleazy inn, away from their home and John’s judgmental eyes. Though his father knew what Dean was – hell, his whole family knew – John was more than happy to oblige that charade.

His father composed himself and, without acknowledging Cas, sat at the head of the table grunting a _Good afternoon._  Dean sucked in a short breath, releasing Cas’ hand and not daring to look at his father. Dean was being a fucking coward, he knew that; it’s not like this changed John’s opinion about Dean, the damage had been done a long time ago. But then again, he didn’t know what was worse for _John-angels-are-soul-suckers-Winchester_ – the fact that his oldest son was bisexual or that apparently now he was friends with the enemy wearing wings.

Dean turned to his plate again, a slice of the cake Cas had brought waiting for him and he let himself get lost in it. Layers of rich shades of dark brown chocolate cake, strawberry filling and whipped cream filled the inside, while sliced strawberries rested on the surface of a sticky frosting of whipped cream. Dean closed his lips and moaned around a spoonful of cake, the delicious piece melting in his mouth and filling it with sweetness and Dean couldn’t help but close his eyes. “Oh my God, Cas, your cook is a genius.”

Cas looked tenderly at him. “Mrs. Moseley is one of the best cooks I know. I will introduce you to her, I’m sure you’re going to like her.”

“Trust me, I already do.”

“I will take you to the castle someday.”

“Well, good luck with that, Dean doesn’t go to your part of town.”

Dean glared at the damn redhead, a witty comeback ready on his tongue, before glancing quickly at his father and deciding against it. “It’s not exactly like that.”

“It’s true.” She shrugged.

That was actually pretty damn true, Dean had a personal rule of not going to the angel’s side of town unless strictly necessary – and by strictly necessary he meant life or death kind of fucked up situation – but maybe for Cas, he wouldn’t mind making an exception once or twice.

“I used to not come to this part of town as well.” Castiel glanced at Dean and his expression became sheepish. “I’m glad I changed my mind.”

“And why was that?” Dean’s father spoke for the first time and everyone turned their focus to him, visibly surprised. “Maybe you had something to hide. Maybe because of the way you use and abuse human souls.”

“Dad!” Dean started shaking, but Cas stopped him and looked sternly at John.

“We don’t abuse human souls. Cupid, the head of the infirmary uses the indirect method to extract the soul’s essence. And I guarantee you, Sir, that the process doesn’t hurt or kill any human who decides to make a donation.”

“You can cut the crap, right now. You may have everyone in this table wrapped around your finger,” his father snarled in a dangerously low voice, “but you ain’t fooling me.” John smacked his hands on the table, almost knocking down some of the glasses as he stood up. “You think I don’t know the meaning of those black wings?”

Castiel startled, his eyes widening in shock as he went very still. The table was deadly silent and staring back and forth between the two of them.

“I want you out of my house.”

“Dad, stop.” Dean was on his feet as well, but John ignored him.

“And I want you out of my son’s life,” he threatened with a finger raised at him, “you hear me?”

“John!”

Dean heard his mother getting up as anger clouded the edges of his vision. Then his whole vision was blue and dark as Cas’ put his hand over his shoulder, his fingers pressing against the handprint beneath Dean’s shirt and pulling him to a stop.

“It’s okay, Dean.”

Dean swallowed thickly and shook his head. “You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, I do.” Castiel smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and a crippling despair twisted at Dean’s stomach. “Thank you so much, Mary, it was lovely to meet you at last.” Dean’s mother crossed the space between them and hugged Cas softly.

“It was my pleasure.” She smiled, cradling Cas’ face in her hands. “Dean was right about you.” Her smile fell and she added sadly, “I’m sorry the evening had to end like this.”

Castiel shook his head and addressed the rest of the silent table, getting a round of goodbyes in response, before turning to Dean who had his feet glued to the floor. “Goodbye, Dean.”

When Dean’s body started working again, Cas was already out the door and Dean was left between having to concentrate on not puking right on the spot and wanting to beat himself senseless. He was moving after Cas before he could make up his mind, until his father’s voice stopped him again. “Don’t you dare go after h—”

“Screw you,” Dean spat out. “You had no right.”

“Don’t you disobey me, boy.” John darted after him, but Dean didn’t give him a chance to catch up.

The sky overhead was now darker with the night’s arrival and Dean noticed the street was covered in white with the first snowfall of the year. His father didn’t follow him outside and Dean couldn’t say he was surprised – judging by the loud voices inside, his mother was proving just how terrifying it was to have a pissed off Mary Winchester on his hands.

The cold breeze pulled him out of his thoughts and Dean whipped his head around, trying to spot the black feathers he had grown to be so fond of. The neighborhood was deserted and silent as he moved down the street. Another gust of air prickled against his skin and Dean hugged himself as he followed along the sidewalk through patches of pitch black darkness in between the sickly glow of the angel lights.

_Cas, man, where the hell are you?_ Dean desperately tried not to think about the royal mess this day had turned out to be. He had fucked up yet again, thanks to his douchebag of a father and his inability to stand up to the man. Now Cas was probably long gone and Dean was out in the middle of the night, with no way to find him.

Dean breathed out in relief when the wind swirled around him, the lights flickering momentarily as the flap of wings behind him made him turn around, a smile already plastered on his face.

Except, instead of the black feathers Dean was looking for, he was met by a pair of white wings. A dark skinned man with broad shoulders and a not-so-friendly-expression stared back at him.

“I’m looking for Castiel.”

“Yeah, hey to you too…” Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes – just what he fucking needed right now. “Too bad, you just missed him.”

“And where is he now?”

“What makes you think I know?”

The angel stepped forward, too close for Dean’s liking, a low and arrogant tone lacing his next words. “Just tell me, human.”

“If Cas wants to find you, he will. I’m not saying another word to you.”

Dean tried to walk around the angel, but a bulky hand closed around his neck, stopping him from moving. “You think I don’t know who you are, Winchester?” the angel hissed, his breath pungent against Dean’s face and making his eyes water while Dean tried to hold his breath. “Michael is getting tired of your little games with his brother. I’m in favor of just killing you and getting this over with, but Michael has this annoying idea that we should “respect the old pact” and all that.” His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “Though I can always tell him you tripped and snapped your neck. Humans, fragile little things that you are, so easy to break.” The hand around Dean’s neck tightened its hold. “So, I ask you again. Where. Is. Castiel.”

It was funny that he was, yet again, in a complete mess and he didn’t even know where Cas was to begin with. But fuck him if he thought Dean was going to let Cas down again, he had already done that enough for one night. Dean scrabbled for hold on the hand cutting off his air supply, but the angel was too strong.

_Cas._ Dean didn’t mean for the word to fill his mind as strongly as it did; there was no chance of Cas hearing his call from wherever he might be right now, and besides, Dean wouldn’t want to unintentionally put Cas in danger too, but there was a sense of comfort in letting that word blossom at the back of his head as the last of his breath slipped away from him. _Cas._ Dean gasped weakly in a desperate attempt to get some air into his lungs, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Let him go, Uriel.”

Dean opened his eyes; the black wings that accompanied that gravelly voice had never looked more beautiful as the grip around his neck relaxed immediately and Dean slumped to the ground with a thud. Dean coughed hard and inhaled deeply, the sweet burn of relief filling his chest as the air made its way into his lungs.

“See? I knew you would come running back once your precious human was in danger,” the angel barked.

“Fuck you,” Dean breathed out.

“Watch your tone, you mud monkey.” Uriel reached for Dean again, but before he could touch him, an explosion of silver and blue lights hit the angel in the chest, the blast sending him down, his white wings scraping and sliding along the pavement. Castiel advanced on him, his icy blue eyes glowing and focused on the other angel.

Cas raised his hand. “Don’t you dare touch him.” Uriel tried to get up but another blast threw him to the ground again, followed by an even bigger explosion of silvery blue grace that made the angel cry out in pain.

Dean slowly stood up. Blood was gushing out of Uriel’s wounds, his breath erratic and uneven as he looked up in surprise at Castiel towering over him. “You would kill me?” he asked, wiping blood off his mouth.

Castiel raised his hand again, but Dean lunged forward and grabbed Cas’ arm, forcing the pure light-blue eyes to turn to him. “Cas.” He tried to smile, not sure if the angel was really listening to him, though it was a good sign he hadn’t yet tried to push him away. _Or tried to smite my sorry ass,_  Dean added to himself. “Let him go, he’s not worth it.” Dean reached out to caress the angel’s cheek. “Please, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes focused on him until the light in them started to fade and he slowly lowered his arm. He turned his head to the angel on the floor. “Get out of here and tell Michael I will talk to him in the morning.” He stepped forward, making Uriel flinch. “Dean saved you. Next time you call another human a mud monkey, remember you owe your life to one of them.”

Uriel scrambled to his feet and, without another glance back, dragged himself into the sky, barely managing to keep himself in the air with his badly injured wings. Dean couldn’t care less.

He turned to Cas, who was watching the other angel; his eyes were back to the warm blue Dean loved so much, his wings partly folded behind him in a non-threatening display. “Hey.” Dean didn’t know why he was whispering since the street was deserted. “Are you–”

“You should stay away from me.” Castiel’s eyes landed on Dean’s. “I’m not… good for you.”

“Cas,” Dean exhaled, reaching for the angel, but Cas shifted away from him.

“Go home, Dean,” Cas said, biting his lip. “You shouldn’t have come after me.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. Cas turned his back on him and squared his shoulders, raising his wings high above their heads, ready to take flight. “Cas, wait!” Cas flapped his wings and left the ground.

Dean could do nothing but stare after him as old memories came to the surface in full force – his mother’s voice echoing in his old bedroom, murmuring words about angels, while Dean lay in his bed and closed his eyes, dreaming of his own guardian angel.

Dean had never let himself believe in those words again ever since the night his father had slapped him and told him it was all a lie. And it’s not like any of the angels Dean had met since then had proved John wrong. Angels weren’t saviors. They were dicks and Dean hated them, he hated them all.

Until Cas came along, with his blue and silver lights and his midnight black wings, and saved his life. Cas had snuck up on him, caught him off guard and got closer while his defenses were down. He’d looked at Dean, straight into his core behind the human shell and the miles that separated them. Instead of seeing a mud monkey wearing a soul he could use, Cas had actually _seen him._  Without Dean realizing it, his mother’s words had come true in the form of a blue-eyed angel and even though Dean wasn’t a dreamer anymore, he believed in Cas.

Dean turned around; first he needed his Baby. Then, he was going after his angel.


	7. Chapter 7

** Four years ago **

Dean found him by the old wisteria tree – plant, vines, or whatever – that Cas had healed that first night they had met. Despite it being late autumn, the tree was still in full bloom and Dean suspected the angel had something to do with it. The lavender blooms filled the air with a sweet fragrance and dangled high above the angel, who sat against the thick base. Dean took a moment to appreciate it before dismounting from Chevro, who was happy to root around for the small clusters of wild grass growing between the wisteria’s roots.

Cas had his back turned to him and made no move to acknowledge him, though Dean knew Cas had sensed him by the way his wings flared slightly when Dean approached both tree and angel. Dean sat down beside him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body without touching him.

“How did you find me?” Cas spoke, still not looking at him.

“You said you like to come here when you wanna be alone.”

“ _Alone_ being the operative word.”

“I’m not leaving, Cas.”

Castiel huffed and shook his head. “You are infuriating, Dean Winchester.”

“Still, you saved my ass yet again today.” Dean chuckled and studied his hands before continuing. “How did you know I was in danger?” he asked, his voice a fraction deeper.

“I heard your thoughts. You were calling for me.” Dean felt the tips of his ears heating up. “You were thinking too loud.” Castiel smiled that crooked smile of his that Dean knew meant he was distinctly amused by something – and, most times, that also meant Cas was about to say something that Dean would rather not hear. “You always think too loud, Dean, it’s impossible to refuse your thoughts. Especially when it’s _my_ name that you think with such longing.” _Yup, there it is._

Dean blushed furiously and looked away, pointedly ignoring him. They were on the highest point of the street, which provided a privileged view over the whole city. Dean relaxed against the tree and understood why Cas liked this spot so much: above them, the purple blossoms sheltered them from voices drifting out of nearby windows, and below them, angel lights illuminated the whole town, drawing paths of constellations down the roads all the way to the shoreline.

“You know what’s funny?” Castiel spoke up after a long, comfortable silence. “Michael is so against me being here with you, but it’s because of him that we’ve met. That first night I saw you –”

“And kicked ass,” Dean added. Every time Cas shifted into his little-badass-with-wings self he gave Dean whiplash with how terrifying and hot the angel could be.

Castiel nodded slowly. “I was on my way to Gabriel’s house at Michael’s request. And now he doesn’t agree with me spending time with humans… with you.”

Dean shifted against the wind prickling his skin until he felt something warm and soft embracing him. Cas’ wing, Dean realized fondly, had moved to protect him from the cold, pulling him closer to the angel in the process; Dean shuddered with the sudden press of their bodies.

“Your father is right. I’m not who you think I am.”

“Cas, whatever you did, I don’t care.”

“If you knew what I did, who I am.” Cas gritted his teeth, his fists digging into his thighs as he looked down. “I’m a monster.”

Dean kicked at a couple of loose rocks with his boot. He had been so excited to introduce Cas to his family, before it all ended so badly. Dean should have known better than to expose someone like Cas to the jackass he called Dad. Cas didn’t deserve to feel like crap because of someone like John Winchester.

“I’m an angel, Dean.”

“Yeah, you are.” Dean tried to lighten up the mood, but Cas rose to his feet and Dean’s smile slipped away as he darted after the angel.

“You’re not listening.” Cas threw the words over his shoulder without slowing his pace.

“No, Cas, wait.” Dean desperately tried to reach for the angel’s arm, but Cas slipped out of his grasp, his wings spreading wide and ready to lift the angel off the ground. _Fuck no, not again._  Dean hastily clasped the silvery cloak flapping between Cas’ wings.

Before the angel could fly away, Dean surprised them both by pulling the cloak towards him, grasping Cas’ wrist with his free hand and yanking him around. A small gasp escaped Cas’ lips as Dean wrapped his arms around the angel’s shoulders, pressing their bodies together in a tight hug.

Cas stilled in his arms, Dean’s heart started racing and for a moment he feared he had just ruined whatever good thing had been flourishing between them. He was trying to come up with a smooth excuse to get out of this mess when Castiel hugged him back, his strong arms gently going around Dean’s waist, pulling him closer before he slowly relaxed.

“You’re no monster, Cas,” Dean whispered so softly, he would have been sure Cas hadn’t heard him if not for the way the angel sighed and melted against him. “You love reading, but you’d rather do it outside than stay in.” Dean paused and chewed on his lip. “You love flying, even though you don’t like your wings.”

Cas’ face gradually buried itself in the curve of Dean’s neck, the hot breath on Dean’s cold skin stirring goosebumps down his spine.

“You have terrible mood early in the morning, but you prefer daytime over night,” Dean mumbled against Cas’ hair. “You only like black coffee and you manage to be more stubborn than I am sometimes, which is quite an achievement.”

Cas huffed, but clenched his fits around Dean’s clothes, pressing his chin to Dean’s shoulder and giving Dean the courage to go on. “Sometimes when we’re wandering in the street and you see someone needing help, you use your grace to help them when you think no one is noticing. But I notice. I know you, Cas. You’re no monster,” he repeated.

Dean swallowed thickly and drew back a bit from the hug. Cas was watching him, his expression slowly changing from stunned to warm and gentle. Dean’s eyes met his and held the angel’s gaze steady. “I’m here to stay, got it?”

Cas’ breath ghosted warmly over his skin and Dean’s shiver had nothing to do with the cold night. Castiel’s fists loosened around Dean’s shirt and he ran his hands along Dean’s back. “You must be freezing without your cloak on, you should go home before you get sick.”

“No.” Dean shook his head slowly; they were still wrapped around each other and he didn’t feel like moving. “I’m warm enough,” Dean confessed, eliciting a soft laugh out of Cas.

“I’m serious, Dean.”

“So am I,” Dean said, playfully ruffling Cas’ fluffy feathers. The angel glared in reply. The wind whistled again and Dean reached out to brush a strand of tousled hair away from Cas’ forehead, his thumb absently running across the angel’s cheekbone on its way down. “All right, I promise I’ll go back after I show you something.”

Castiel did that cute little head tilt Dean had long since learned to associate with the angel and frowned. “What is it?”

“Come with me.”

 

 

The first rays of sunlight glistened in the horizon as they reached their destination. Dean watched the angel fly above his head as he pulled his baby to a stop.

Dean looked around, suddenly nervous. He had found this purple paradise right in the heart of the Vran forest a few weeks ago. It had been late at night and Dean was returning after running errands for work out of town. Chevro was tired and thirsty and Dean had followed the crisp smell brought by the wind and the splashing sounds of water running against rocks.

This part of the forest was so thick, he hadn’t seen the stream until speckles of violet-blue, pink and lavender had caught his attention. Massive wisteria trees stretched out on both sides of the riverbank - old and gnarled trees scattered between younger ones that seemed sculpted to perfection. Cascading flower clusters swallowed the sky and added new colors to it and Dean had thought about Cas and that first day they had met.

Dean knew the angel had visited that lonely wisteria tree each time he felt sad or wanted to be alone; but Dean couldn’t imagine Cas feeling comfortable in a street filled with the clattering of pots and pans, or loud voices and suspicious looks, aimed at the angel who didn’t belong there.

This place, in the middle of nowhere, was perfect for a hiding place, full of those same violet trees the angel seemed so fond of, and Dean couldn’t wait to show it to Cas and watch those beautiful lips change into a full smile that spread across his whole face.

Dean dismounted from Chevro just as Cas landed ahead of them. Even though now most of the trees were stripped of their leaves, this place was still as beautiful. The angel’s mouth went slack and his eyes widened as he contemplated what surrounded them. He turned to face Dean, a fond smile expanding his mouth as he whispered, “Dean.” And Dean couldn’t help but smile back, knowing that he had been the one responsible for that grin. “This is beautiful,” Cas added.

“Yeah, I wish you had seen this sooner, while everything was still blooming. It was breathtaking.”

“Well, I think I can take care of that.” Cas raised his hand. There was a shift in the air and an explosion of green took hold of the ground, melting the snow away. The once bare trees sprouted with dense, vibrant green foliage and each black pendant seed pod exploded one by one, giving way to clusters of pink that started to swell and unfurl, spilling down in full bloom at the top of each tree, filling the once monochrome place with shades of pink and purple.

“Wow,” Dean gasped, mouth gaping open.

Castiel smiled and immediately began to explore.

Dean threw off his boots and sat by the river, barefoot in the water, too cold to the touch at first, but slowly refreshing his skin and allowing him to enjoy the quiet water lapping at his ankles. Not long after, Cas’ feet joined his, the angel was beaming and looking more relaxed than Dean had seen him in a long time.

“I love it here, do you come here often?”

“Not really, only passed through here once, but thought this could be a nice secret place for you when you need some alone time. Y’know,” Dean shrugged, “instead of that crammed street with that tree you love so much.”

Cas opened his mouth to correct him, but Dean cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, not really a tree, whatever.”

Cas smiled sweetly and regarded the stream again. “Thank you, Dean.” A blue catfish splashed loudly in the distance and Dean found himself absurdly thrilled with the prospect of dusting off his fishing rod to come back here and teach Cas how to catch a fish, the good old fashioned way.

They didn’t move or talk for a long time, the lazy flowing of water the only sound to be heard, with the occasional birds chirping and other small animals running away in the presence of the two new figures.

“I didn’t know such a place could be real,” Cas said, drawing his knees up and draping his arms around his legs.

“You know me. Dean Winchester, making dreams come true, one wish at a time.” He smirked and winked.

Castiel tilted his head back and barked out a laugh. “And charmingly humble as always.”

Dean bumped Cas’ shoulder and raised one of his eyebrows. “So you think I’m charming, huh?”

Cas flushed slightly and pointedly didn’t look at him. “Perhaps,” he mumbled. Dean chuckled and laid back in the grass, life was perfect right now and Dean felt lighter than he ever had before. So, yeah, maybe, just maybe, Cas felt the same way about him and they might have a real shot of something more than a friendship.

 

 

** Present day **

Dean felt dizzy, like his soul had left his body and he was watching himself from above. His father stood in front of him, waiting for him to say something, but the world was slowly turning into a blurred haze and Dean didn’t know what kind of reply was expected of him. _He didn’t leave you._  Those words played in his head on loop. His father was lying, it had to be a lie.

It had been three years, but Dean still remembered, clear as day.

Cas was supposed to meet him at midnight by the harbor. They were going to run away together, far from his prejudiced father and the other angels. It was too dangerous to stay, so they had planned their escape. Dean would come back for Mom, Sammy and Jess once they had made sure they could bring them along without putting their lives at risk. As much as it pained Dean to leave them behind, he would rather be apart from them than to have them killed because of his own mess.

He didn’t tell anyone about his plans to leave with Cas, just got his bags and was already at the door when his hand lingered on the knob. In one impulsive decision, he went back and left behind the letter he had hastily written to his brother explaining what he was about to do. He didn’t mention where he was going or that he was going with Cas, but at least his brother would know Dean would come back for him.

Cas never showed up and Dean was left with a hole in his chest and a broken heart that had stubbornly kept beating for the next three years.

“What did you say?” Dean heard himself say, but it didn’t sound like his voice, his tone coarse and cold.

John sat down and let out another dry, hacking cough into his old gray rag. “Let me start from the beginning.” He motioned for the large couch in front of him. “You might want to sit down, son.”

Dean walked over to the wooden mini-bar in the far corner of the living room and considered the selection of wines at his disposal - red, white; then there was rum, also ale and whiskey, _perfect._ Dean grabbed a shot of whiskey and poured it full – he needed to make himself numb before going any further.

He sunk back into the couch and took two long gulps, the liquid burned down his throat as he downed the welcome distraction quickly. Dean pursed his lips and nodded for his father to continue.

“On the day that everything happened, I was getting ready to leave the mornin’ after.” John gripped the arm of the chair and stared out the window, a thoughtful look on his face. “That’s when I noticed I was out of the traps your brother used to do for me, ya know, those gizmos he did for my hunts. He said it was less painful for the animals, I never cared about that, but it did make my hunts easier so I rolled with it.” His father gave a mirthless laugh. “Anyway, that’s why I went to your house that night, to grab more of that stuff. There was no one home, so I used the spare key you used to hide outside and went to your brother’s room.” John gulped and turned to Dean. “That’s when I saw it. Your letter. It had your handwriting and I knew there was something that didn’t sit right,” John confessed. “So I read it.”

Dean gulped the rest of his glass and went for a refill to keep his hands from going straight to the man’s throat.

“The things you said in that letter about that angel.” John shook his head. “The way you said it. I had never seen you talk about love, son, but there you were, writing all that nonsense about love and about leaving.” John clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. “I felt like you had spit in my face. Even if you didn’t say who that person you were running away with was, I knew deep inside. Oh, I was damn sure it was that Castiel who had you on the hook.”

Dean studied his glass, _empty again_ , he lamented. His fingers gripped around it tightly enough to turn white and steam up the cool glass.

“Then Michael barged into your house and I had my suspicions confirmed.”

Dean snapped his head up. “M-Michael was in my house?”

His father nodded. “Castiel was missing and Michael was sure you had something to do with it. He demanded to know where you were and I, uh, I showed him your letter.”

“You did what?” Dean’s stomach twisted into knots and he tried his best not to throw up. It’s not like he didn’t know already that his father had plotted with Michael against him, but knowing the damn angel had read such a private thing made him fucking sick. He had worn his heart on his sleeve in that letter, and that was meant for his brother alone, not for a bunch of people who could use it to ruin his life.

Dean’s vision went red until a shattering sound jerked him back to the present - the glass previously in his hand was now in pieces on the floor, save for one sharp fragment that had pierced his flesh. “Fuck.” Dean pulled the fragment out and pressed with his other hand against the long cut as he got up. His father followed suit.

“Let me help.”

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Dean warned. He checked his hand hurriedly – the cut was bleeding profusely, but he didn’t care about that right now. “Just keep talking.”

John sighed and grabbed his pipe. His lips closed around the tip and he took a long, deep breath, exhaling a new cloud of smoke out of his nostrils. “After Michael read your letter, he uh,” John cleared his throat, “he suspected the same thing I did. It was his idea to send you away. He said we had to stop you before this got out of control and that you going to war was the only way of keeping you two apart. We started planning the best way to do it. Michael copied your handwriting and made a new letter.” John paused, waving his free hand in a small circle as if he was trying to gather words up from the air. “Using his angel crap.”

Dean clenched his hands, his nails biting into the flesh and his bloody palm, slowly staining Ellen’s carpet with red spots while his father continued. “He said he would take care of you and Castiel, I just had to show the fake letter to Sam and your mother, and keep up the charade.”

A tear escaped Dean’s eye and he wiped it away before John could see it. “How did you find me?”

“What?” he spoke between another drag.

“I didn’t say where I was going in the letter, so how did you know?”

“Chevro’s trail. Michael enchanted the barn’s floor to illuminate the last path your horse had made. That led him straight to you.”

Dean huffed a disbelieving laugh and rubbed his chin. “You son of a bitch.”

“You have every right to hate me.”

“Damn right I do.”

“Dean –” John trailed off and reached for Dean’s shoulder, right above his old handprint and he reacted before his father’s hand had made complete contact with it. The first punch didn’t knock the man down, but the second one did the trick.

“I said don’t touch me.” The bloody nose his father was now sporting was a pleasant sight. “You fucking asshole, how could you do this to your own son?!” Dean stepped forward, towering over his father when Ellen’s hands stopped him.

“Dean.” She leaned against his side, wrapping her arms around him and Dean wasn’t sure if that was for his benefit or his father’s. “Please come with me, we need to take a look at your hand.”

Dean let himself get dragged into the kitchen, he absently sat on a stool and leaned over the kitchen counter while Ellen washed her hands and fetched the first aid box, yanking it open next to his injured hand. They didn’t speak while she efficiently took care of the wound, first cleaning off the blood staining his hand with a clean cloth and fresh water, then gently applying yarrow oil – to which Dean _did not_  wince, getting a small smile out of the older woman. “The cut isn’t deep, it won’t need stitching.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” he replied under his breath.

“I think you’re missing a point about what your father said.”

“You were eavesdropping?”

“Don’t you raise those brows to me, son. Someone had to make sure you two knuckleheads didn’t kill each other.” Ellen started unrolling a bandage and wrapped it methodically around Dean’s hand while she spoke. “You were made to believe that Cas had sold you out to Michael, but when Michael found your father he didn’t know where any of you were. John was the one that made it possible for him to find you that night, Cas had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh yeah? Then where was he?” Dean jerked his hand away and stood up.

“Why don’t you go ask him that?” She smiled sweetly up at him and that made everything hurt even more. Dean shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“You know what, I’ve had enough of this let’s-hold-hands-and-take-a-stroll-down-memory-lane crap.” Dean held his bandaged hand up and grabbed a bottle of bourbon on his way out. “Thanks for the help.”

Dean had been certain Cas had sold him out to Michael all those years ago, so it had made perfect sense that he hadn’t showed up that night, but now that he knew Cas hadn’t been involved, Dean couldn’t help questioning everything - Where was Cas that night? Why didn’t he show up like they had planned? Dean had been waiting over an hour before Michael showed up, which left plenty of time for Cas to meet him. Had something happened to Cas? Had Michael and his minions hurt him to stop the angel from meeting Dean?

Dean had drank half the bottle when he reached Vpaachi Street. The street was darker and longer than he remembered, a swing screeched loudly in the background and Dean didn’t know what he had expected – it surely wasn’t a friggin’ welcome party – but there was something about this street that seemed to oppose him. He felt his heart thud loudly against his chest as he pushed forward and fought back the hot bile that rose up in his throat.

Gabriel’s house was the third on the left and Dean’s legs were shaking by the time he reached the door. After downing more of his liquid courage, he knocked.

The door opened almost instantly and, to Dean’s terror, the person on the other side of the door was exactly who he was looking for. _Fucking damn._  Dean had hoped no one would be here so he could forget his sudden bravery, pretend this had never happened and go home. No luck though – eyes light as gold met his and widened as recognition dawned on the angel. Before Dean could open his mouth to say anything, he was being hauled inside and shoved against the wall. “Well hello to you too, Gabriel.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” The smaller guy looked much taller than Dean right now _and how was that even possible?_  Dean didn’t have a chance to figure it out because he was pushed against the wall once more. “I don’t want you here, you need to go.”

“Last time I checked the street is a public place, free for anyone to come and go as they please.”

Gabriel released him in favor of splaying a hand against Dean’s chest, his palm glowing in a silent threat. “Not in my house. In here I could kill you and no one would know.”

“What, and stain your pretty white feathers? I don’t think so,” he retorted.

“Try me,” Gabriel snarled back.

Dean groaned in frustration. “Listen, I know you’ve helped my brother release me, and that he told you everything. You know that what happened back then,” Dean took a shaky breath, “wasn’t my fault.”

“I don’t know anything.” Gabriel shook his head, a sudden glimpse of something Dean would swear looked like sadness in his eyes. “I helped your brother because he’s been a good friend to me and he was a bawling mess when he came asking for my help. I couldn’t say no to those puppy eyes.”

“No one can.” Dean chuckled softly and Gabriel shot a glare at him, lowering his hand to his side. “I didn’t leave everyone behind on purpose, Gabe, you gotta believe me. I didn’t leave Cas.” His voice cracked as those three letters left his lips. “At least, not because I wanted to.”

“It’s been three years, Dean. Even if I believed you, it’s too late, just,” Gabriel sighed heavily, “just go.”

“I need to see him.” There it was, the admission Dean had tried so desperately not to feel. Despite believing Cas had betrayed him, even though he wished with every fiber of his body to feel nothing but hate; below the surface, buried beneath anger and hurt, he had never stopped hoping to see those disarming blue eyes and dark feathers around every corner.

“Dean—”

“Please, Gabe.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to see you.”

“I’ll explain to him what happened.”

“Stop.” Gabriel’s wings sagged along with his shoulders.

“Once he knows it was all a setup,” Dean continued, ignoring how the angel seemed to draw into himself.

“Listen, Dean—”

“That it wasn’t my fault—”

“Dean!”

“I’m sure he’ll—”

“He’s getting married!”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, his half-drunk brain was surely playing tricks on him because he couldn’t have possibly heard what he thought he had. “W-what?”

Sadness clouded the angel’s features. “Cas is going to get married in two months.”


	8. Chapter 8

** Present day **

“He’s what?”

“Why so surprised? Did you expect him to sit around and wait for you after what you did?”

“I didn’t…”

“Yeah, sure, it wasn’t your fault, blah blah. And I’m supposed to believe that just because suddenly, after three years, you barge into my house and say so.”

“Not just because I say so.” Dean ran his hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. “Sam already told you everything, didn’t he? If you don’t believe us, go ask Bobby – hell, go ask my dad.”

“Castiel has moved on, Dean, you should do the same. Go live in another kingdom where no one’s looking for you, go rebuild your life, meet new people, I can introduce you t–”

“Is he happy?” Dean’s voice came out as barely a whisper, cracking as he blinked a new wave of tears away.

Gabriel blinked. “He… what?”

“Just tell me that and I promise I won’t bother you or him again.”

“Yes, uh,” Gabriel stuttered, not meeting his eyes. “Castiel is h-happy.” The angel looked up and met Dean’s eyes, his face suddenly haunted with weariness; there was something else there too, but Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Good.” Dean nodded slowly before taking a deep breath. “That’s good. That’s all I wanted for Cas.”

“Yeah… same here.” The reply came out strained.

Dean turned to leave and was already halfway out the door when he took one last glance at the angel. “Goodbye, Gabe, it was good to see you again.” Gabriel opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Dean didn’t wait for him to make up his mind and closed the door behind him, the sharp cold wind whipped rain droplets into his face and Dean raised his head to it - the icy, damp air numbing his fingers and the tip of his nose was a relief and the best feeling in the world right now.

Dean closed his eyes, then looked at both sides of the street and back at the bottle still secured between his fingers in a tight grip. He took several mouthfuls of bourbon and tried to decide where to go next. Dean didn’t want to go home right now; he was sure his brother would be waiting for him with a bunch of questions Dean would rather not face. There was no chance of going to the Roadhouse in this state without drawing unwanted attention to himself.

He stumbled across Gabriel’s front yard and turned left as something close to grief crept inside him. Castiel wasn’t dead, but a wave of despair flared so deep and heavy inside Dean’s chest, that he might as well have been mourning. The ache clawed its way through Dean’s body and curled around the sore lump in his throat and Dean choked out a sob, quickly drowning it with another swig from the bottle until he had emptied the whole thing.

The alcohol started to hit him full force halfway through his walk, his muddled mind grasping at focus as Dean tried to remember where he was heading. Castiel was getting married. Dean chuckled bitterly; He couldn’t deny he had thought about it before, only in his dreams there wasn’t a faceless stranger smiling back at Cas at the altar, vowing to love him and make him happy for the rest of their lives.

For a wild moment Dean had actually believed he and Cas had a shot at fixing the past three years, but this was Dean’s life after all – always a fraction late, a little bit slow, and Cas was always more of a comet never quite touching the Earth.

And Dean knew they were damn perfect for each other, but there were worlds between them, no chance to just be _them_ – raw and all-consuming, with all those little imperfect pieces of perfection that Dean desperately missed.

By the time Dean reached the shore, rain was falling down in heavy, translucent sheets, shedding an eerie glow over the deserted beach and changing the natural light-sandy coast into dull and washed-out shades. Dean held up the bottle to his eye level – empty. _Well, isn’t this just the cherry on top,_  he should have brought more booze.

Dean’s legs felt heavy and sluggish as he slowly advanced through the beach in an effort to keep himself upright. He tripped over his feet a couple of times on his way down as the ground spun beneath him. “Sw-sweet,” Dean slurred, amused by it; he didn’t know beaches had that ability. “Youuu ar’awesom’.”

When he finally reached the open waters of the Niisa Ocean, Dean was proud of himself for not falling flat on his face.

He managed to take off his boots and bury his feet in the sand, his throat tightening with memories of slender feet and goofy smiles from the black-winged angel who loved this beach so much.

The corners of his eyes stung and Dean rubbed the blurriness away, slumping down in the sand.

He let the freezing waves bite at his skin, his hair slicked against his forehead as fat droplets dripped into his eyes and mouth. His heavy eyelids closed as the dark blanket of raindrops pounded angrily on him. Dean shut it all out - only one prayer on his mind. _Cas,_ he pleaded. _Cas._ He formed the word in his head over and over again, hoping against hope the angel would hear his call like in the past. _Cas,_ he repeated, lacing the word with so much longing it was almost physically painful.

Eventually Dean curled onto his side, grateful to the rain for muting his tears and the sobs forcing their way out of his throat. When he fell asleep, it wasn’t in the cocoon of dark wings and bright blue eyes he craved, but alone and shivering and feeling like a damn fool for even trying.

 

 

 

 

 

** Four years ago **

It was the end of another long day at work. Dean stretched his arms above his head and yawned, dragging his feet through the remainder of the path to his home. The long hours of work were killing him, but Bobby had made it clear that they couldn’t take a break in a time like this. No one dared to clarify what “a time like this” meant – the war was upon them and everyone was too afraid that saying it out loud would somehow make it happen.

Dean was almost home and already imagining the soft mattress of his bed beneath his beat-up body. The last thing he expected was to find Castiel in front of his house, pacing from one side of the street to the other.

He looked up when Dean got closer and smiled. “Dean, what took you so long?”

Dean frowned. “I… I thought we had agreed there was no dance lesson today because of my work schedule?”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Cas plucked at the cuff of his shirt. “But I was wondering, since you’ve been so helpful with my dancing skills, I would like to give you something in return.” He stepped forward. “Can you come with me?”

“Like, now?” Dean asked around another yawn.

“Yes, you won’t regret it, I promise.”

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek; he had to go out of town the next day and he needed a good night’s rest before the long travel. Besides, he could almost hear his bed calling his name. He glanced at Cas, who was looking at him with those puppy eyes of his and a slightly protruding bottom lip. _Rusty people skills my ass._  Dean rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. “All right, all right, you win.”

Castiel’s face lit up like fireworks and Dean’s softened in return, the urgency of sleep almost forgotten. Castiel drew nearer and hesitated for a moment, then reached out, placing his hands lightly on Dean’s hips. Dean jolted, swallowing the rush of warm want building in his chest. “What are you doing?” he asked, a little out of breath.

Cas tilted his head. “It will be faster if we fly.”

“Nuh uh.” Dean stepped back. “I don’t do flying. I’ll get Baby.”

Castiel scrunched his face. “Angels were not made to ride other animals.”

“And humans weren’t made to fly.” Dean crossed his arms. “So what’s it gonna be?”

They stared at each in a long silent battle. Finally, Castiel folded his arms, mirroring Dean, and gave him a dirty look. “Fine!”

Dean turned quickly and made his way to the stable before the angel could change his mind. He saddled his girl and met Cas outside, helping his grumpy ass to mount Chevro behind him. They rode quietly, only interrupted by Castiel’s occasional directions, until they reached the bridge that connected the angel’s side of the town with the humans’ side. Dean’s first instinct was to stop. It wasn’t like he had never ventured to that part of the city, but he would gladly avoid it if he could.

“We’re almost there,” Cas encouraged from behind him.

“Dude, this better be good.” Dean grimaced before inciting Chevro to move forward.

The arms already wrapped around Dean’s waist tugged him to the angel’s chest protectively. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” Dean could hear the smile in Castiel’s voice. _Smug-ass angel._

“Yeah, yeah. Very funny,” he huffed.

“It wasn’t a joke,” Cas murmured against Dean’s ear, his warm breath caressing Dean’s neck as they made their way through the bridge. Dean shivered, all too aware of the angel shifting behind him and draping himself over Dean. Another gush of warmth flared low in his gut as their thighs slid against one another and the angel pressed their hips together to rest his chin on Dean’s shoulder. Dean gulped, trying hard not to think about what was pressed to his ass as they entered the west part of town.

A wide archway made entirely of soft pink and white flowers welcomed them in. Dean stretched his arm upward, brushing his fingertips on the fresh flowers hanging from the ceiling as they made their way through it.

The streets weren’t crowded, but Dean wished the handful of white wings and silky cloaks weren’t there at all.

The angel’s side was, in most aspects, similar to the human’s – same timber-framed houses and thatched roofs, but here each building was almost fused with the landscape. Lush plants grew wildly up the walls; roses had climbed all the way to the roof on one of the houses at Dean’s side, and another one was partially concealed by purple bougainvilleas. Curtains of soft yellow, deep blue or pure white flowers hid most of the arched windows.

The cobblestone streets were lined with cherry blossom trees and at their base neatly trimmed bluebeard shrubs. Strings of angel lights were wrapped around some trees to illuminate the path, while others outlined the walkway and gables of the houses.

Dean glanced at Cas who looked all too pleased with the pointed glares being thrown in their direction as they turned another corner. “Having fun, are we?”

“Plenty,” Cas confessed rather loudly.

“Not that I don’t make very cute arm candy, if I say so myself,” Dean teased, “but why did you bring me here? Where are we going, Cas?”

“It is right ahead.” Cas pointed at the Souls Tower.

“You want me to go there?” His voice pitched up momentarily.

“We’re not going in, you do not need to be nerv–”

“I’m not,” Dean lied.

The Souls Tower served as storage for human souls as well as the main infirmary. Cupid was the angels’ head healer and, from what Dean had been told, the one who had invented the non-invasive way of extracting souls that had led to the truce between angels and humans.

Cupid had been in charge of the whole tower ever since and was responsible for making sure everyone working in it followed the commandments. The third commandment of the pact concerned the humans’ part of the deal – a certain amount of soul essence should be freely donated every year by the Piamoel’s citizens.

Every human who so desired would come to the tower and Cupid or any other angel working in the infirmary would make the extraction. They were led to the Crystal Hall - a wide, round room void of any objects save the blue luminescent crystal at the center. The sharp object hovered a few inches above the pristine white marble floor and its slender tip reached almost to the ceiling. The human was positioned in front of it and a vial was placed under the pointed edge at the bottom of the crystal. Once activated, a bright golden light emanated from the crystal while a small portion of the soul was extracted directly into it, which then leaked the essence through the pointed edge and into the vial underneath it.

The process was painless for the humans and the vial could be stored and consumed by an angel later. The human was free to go and carry on with their lives; their soul would be powered up to its fullest once again after about a week and if they wished to, they could come back and repeat the donation.

Dean shivered. The few times he had ventured to this side of town, he had consciously avoided the tower and anything related to it. Even if Dean knew all essence was given freely, it still left a bitter taste in the back of his mouth to think of what happened inside the tower, and he had never felt the inclination to go inside and make a donation.

As they got closer Dean gaped in awe at the tower engulfing them in its long shadow and looking all the more intimidating now.

A curved, golden door waited for them to step inside its wide, double-entry passage. A black stone in the center was carved with Enochian words Dean had never bothered to learn. Living birch trees, the most immaculate white Dean had ever seen, made up the entirety of the outside walls – the slender trunks sank heavily into the ground and were angelically modified to grow entwined with each other and as tall as the eye could see. The top bloomed with dense, vibrant-green foliage, its leaves softly swaying and crinkling in the wind.

They stopped at the base and hopped off Chevro. Dean closed the remaining distance to the tower, almost hypnotized by the imposing structure and the sweet woody smell. He touched the rough surface, running his fingers along the occasional horizontal ebony-black fissures cut through the otherwise completely white tree barks.

Dean was so absorbed studying the trees, he almost jumped out of his skin when something bumped his leg. His immediate reaction was to draw his sword and face his attacker – whichever feathery piece of shit was messing with him would be dead before they hit the floor. Dean was going to show them, he wa–

A small ball of fur with sandy-colored stripes nudged Dean’s leg again, purring and nuzzling against it.

“Yes, better be careful with the big, scary kitten,” Cas said, barely able to suppress his laughter.

“Shut your face,” Dean threatened with a finger.

The small kitten came to a stop in front of Dean’s sword - big, turquoise eyes studying the blade for a moment before sticking out a tiny, pink tongue and licking the tip. “Careful,” Dean warned and sheathed his sword back in the scabbard on his hip. The kitten scrunched up its nose and meowed indignantly. “Told ya, pal, my sword ain’t cat food.”

Castiel lifted the kitten and cradled it in his arms with a smirk on his face. “Meet Claire.” He snuggled the kitten to his cheek, then held the kitten out in front of Dean’s face. “Claire, this is my friend, Dean.” Claire darted her tongue out and licked Dean’s nose.

Dean stepped back, wiping his nose. “Well, hello to you too.” He grinned widely, stroking the kitten behind her ears. “What is a cute little thing like you doing out so late here by yourself?”

Cas chuckled. “Don’t let her fool you. Claire here is older than you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, she has been living with us ever since I fell to Earth.”

“Wow, I thought that had happened like, thousands of years ago. How is she still alive?”

“Because,” Cas gently caressed her fur, “she has part of my grace in her. As long as I’m alive, she won’t get old.”

“That’s pretty cool, I didn’t know you could do that.”

“We can, but we don’t. The process is quite risky. But when I fell, it took me a while to learn how to confine myself in this body.” Cas averted Dean’s eyes, absently rubbing her pink paw pads. “In one of those moments that I lost control, her family was nearby and I, uh, regrettably ended up killing them. But part of the grace that escaped got inside Claire, allowing her to survive the outbreak.”

Claire wriggled in Cas’ arms and the angel carefully set her down. “She learned how to take care of herself over the years quite superbly.” He smiled. “Besides, Michael would kill anyone who dared hurt her.” The cat pranced away and disappeared behind the corner of a nearby house.

Dean huffed. “Duly noted – do not piss off the cat.”

“Come on, Dean.” Cas encircled the tower in long-legged strides. Dean followed close behind even though he still wasn’t sure what the hell they were doing here. “It’s almost happening, we need to hurry.”

“What exactly is happening anyway, Cas? Where the hell are you taking me?”

They came to a stop and Castiel pointed at the top of the tower with a smile tugging at his mouth. “Up there,” he said like that cleared up all of Dean’s questions.

“I’m sorry, what?” Dean felt the color drain out of his face.

“Don’t worry, Dean, there’s an observation platform at the top.”

“Right! Thanks, Cas, I feel so much better now.”

Cas threw him a half-hearted annoyed glare before it blended into a softer expression. “It’s going to be fun, Dean, I promise.” The angel all but batted his lashes and pranced his way up to him. “Please.”

_Dean was royally screwed._

“You know I’m not good with heights…”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes!” The reply was out instantly and it took them both by surprise how fast and easy it had slid off Dean’s tongue. It should scare Dean the way the word had escaped him, especially because of the honesty it carried. Instead he held out his arms in invitation and grunted, “This better be worth it.”

Cas hummed softly and laced his arms around Dean’s waist, pressing their bodies flush together and making the earth disappear beneath their feet. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and clenched at Cas’ shoulders in a painful grip. The cold wind battled against his hair as the relentless whooshing pulled at their bodies. _Don’t let go._  He wasn’t sure if that was aimed at himself or the angel currently defying gravity. When the reply came as a fearless, “Never,” Dean realized it didn’t matter, he pulled Cas in harder and sheltered his face against the angel’s neck.

It was over before Dean could get used to the feeling of weightlessness but he couldn’t say he missed it. Cas let go of him but drew closer again when Dean swayed slightly. “’m okay,” Dean mumbled, shooting him a weak thumbs up that didn’t seem to convince the angel. “Just, give me time and…” He glanced at the precipice beside them and choked down his nausea. _Fucking huge mistake, Winchester._  “Distract me or something.”

“Oh, right, sure.” Cas resembled a headless chicken as he tried to decide what to do next. “Right, uh, come, sit here.” He pulled Dean to the back of the platform, where a thick, camel-brown blanket with tiny bee patches sewed all over it awaited them. Cas smiled sheepishly at Dean who raised an interested eyebrow at him. “I like bees.”

They sat against the wooden frame and snuggled beneath the blanket, their legs bumping each other and - after some sappy smiles and hesitation - resting on one another. They could still watch the whole city from back here in their warm nest, but the feeling of an impending nosedive and immediate death wasn’t as strong, for which Dean was extremely grateful.

“So, now can you tell me what are we doing here?”

“Meteor shower.”

“Meteor shower?”

“Hmm hmm.” Cas nodded enthusiastically. “Anna told me tonight would be the perfect time to see it and I thought it would be fun to watch it with you.”

Dean shook his head fondly. _This little nerd._

Cas hesitantly met his eyes. “I hope this will be worth it.”

Dean clutched at the light brown blanket, looking at the dark sky above their heads, then back at the blue sapphires boring into his eyes and couldn’t keep the dopey smile from reaching his lips. “It already is.”

A warm smile met Dean’s and stretched across the angel’s face, leaving a gentle crinkle on his nose in its path. And that was all the reward Dean needed.

“Dean,” Cas started, but whatever he was going to say died in his lungs. He squinted, his whole expression changing when he looked down at Dean’s left hand. “You’re hurt.” He unceremoniously took Dean’s hand between his. His thumb brushed the inside of Dean’s wrist when he turned Dean’s palm upwards and coaxed his fingers open.

“Ah, that’s just a cut – perks of being a bladesmith.”

Suddenly Cas’ hands started glowing and Dean pulled away instinctively. A flicker of hurt passed through Cas’ face and Dean immediately regretted having such a stupid knee-jerk reaction. “Sorry, I’m just not used t–”

“You don’t need to be afraid, Dean.” Cas’ voice was soft while he brushed his fingers against Dean’s wrist. “I could never hurt you. I could only use my powers on you to stop pain, or to mend skin.” He pressed his palm against the center of Dean’s chest. “Or to listen to your soul, not to take it away,” he added, almost murmuring.

Glowing tendrils of silver-blue grace bloomed around the fingers holding Dean’s hand, sending a warm fluttery feeling through Dean’s entire arm as they sank into the cut and laced its borders together, leaving behind fresh new skin and a fading glow. Dean could feel the warmth of Cas’ grace nibbling at his skin, pulsing through his veins all the way up to his chest where Cas’ other hand was still pressed against his chest. Dean’s soul curled up in a happy display of recognition, trying to meld itself with Cas’ energy. _Calm the fuck down,_  Dean scolded it with his mind. He had never felt his soul before and most certainly not like this, practically purring.

“Cas…” Dean covered Cas’ hand with his, trying to anchor himself to something while his heart seemed hell bent on bursting out of his chest along with his soul.

Cas’ eyes were ablaze as they searched Dean’s face, boring into him. “Your soul is so beautiful. I would never let anyone break it.”

Dean’s eyelids fluttered closed, his breath coming out in shallow huffs as he felt himself drawn even closer to Cas. He forced his eyes open, staggering out a protest, “Damn it, Cas, you can’t say stuff like that,” but it fell flat.

A shallow breath ghosted over his skin and Dean wanted to steal it from Cas’ lips. Their noses were almost touching, all Dean had to do was lean in and close the remaining distance.

Dean shut his eyes.

Something small and wet landed on his forehead and Dean frowned when another one hit the curve of his ear. Then another raindrop splashed right on the tip of Cas’ nose and the angel pulled his eyes away from Dean’s lips, crossing them to inspect his own nose. They both looked up. “Oh no,” Cas murmured when a sudden rainstorm poured down on them.

Dean chuckled and threw his arms over his head even though that wouldn’t do him any good against the angry rain hammering down on them. “So much for watching the meteor shower.”

“I was so certain the sky would be clean tonight,” Cas lamented, worrying his bottom lip.

“Can’t you mojo the weather into getting better or something? I thought you guys could do that.”

Cas shook his head. “After such a display of energy, I would need to consume soul’s essence, which I don’t. I can only use small amounts of power at a time to allow my grace the time it needs to recover to its fullest again. Otherwise I die.”

_Well, that’s a big no, then,_  Dean thought. He was having a surprisingly good time. Despite how far he was from the ground, he had forgotten they were on top of a tower and he suddenly felt ill at the thought of having to face that fact again on the way down.

He looked back at Cas, only then realizing he wasn’t drenched in water, which should be impossible. Dean opened his mouth to say so, but stopped when he noticed Cas’ wings languidly thrown over both of them. Dean instinctively reached for it.

There was a natural sense in all of this, a feeling of belonging, of _right,_ with Dean combing his fingers through Cas’ feathers, their matching breaths following their goofy smiles as a peaceful span of silence stretched lazily between them while the rain muffled the world outside their nest of camel-brown and bees - it was damn near perfect and Dean relaxed into it without resistance.

“Claire’s wasn’t the only family I killed,” Cas spoke quietly after a while. “There’s a reason most angel’s wings are white, Dean.” He swallowed audibly, shuffling nervously before continuing. “When we first arrived on Earth, we didn’t know we needed souls to keep our strength. We kept dying without realizing what was wrong with us. That is, until I changed it.” Cas’ voice broke and Dean allowed his hand to find Cas’ beneath their warm blanket, their fingers sliding between each other.

Cas supplied him with a sad smile that quickly slipped from his lips before he continued. “One day I realized I was able to take in human souls, with or without their consent. I grew stronger, but I also became ravenous for even more. Each soul I consumed without consent colored my wings with darkness. Soon after that, all my white feathers were gone and I was officially out of control.”

Dean swallowed hard at the revelation. Cas was one of the angels – if not _the_ angel – his father had warned him about: killing mercilessly to fill an insatiable hunger for human souls. Cas clenched his jaw, a hard line between his eyebrows when he tried to make eye contact, but Dean couldn’t meet his gaze.

“When the other angels saw what had happened to me, their pride for their white feathers kept them from doing the same, but I was already addicted to it,” Cas said. “What I did… what I became.” Cas slumped back and hung his head with a sigh. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

Dean looked up at the angel beside him, committing his profile to memory and watching the slight movements of his nose as his mouth moved again. “That’s one of the reasons Michael urged Cupid to find another way of consuming souls. He wanted another path for me, assuring that the same thing wouldn’t happen to any other angel under his care.”

The picture of that cold-hearted creature didn’t match the disheveled angel holding Dean’s hand right now. The same angel who liked to watch meteor showers and had fired up Dean’s soul with tenderness; the one who was determined to not consume a single soul essence, even if given freely. Dean couldn’t reconcile the two images – Cas wasn’t the same angel he had been back then, and even though what he did was horrible, he wasn’t evil and certainly not the monster from John’s descriptions. Not anymore.

For Dean, Cas belonged to the stories his mother used to tell him to keep Dean’s nightmares at bay when he was a child. _Angels are watching over you,_  she had promised. And Dean’s dreams, once filled with imaginary guardian angels, were now wrapped up in sparks of blue, silver and a concrete silhouette Dean could cling to in the dark.

“I forgive you.” Dean’s voice came out hoarse but he held his gaze when Cas’ head snapped up to meet him, the underside of his wing brushing against Dean’s body as he moved.

“I know it’s not my place,” Dean continued. “But if it’s forgiveness you need, you’ve got mine.” Dean squeezed Cas’ hand, rubbing his knuckles back and forth in a soothing motion.

“I killed thousands of your kind, Dean. I took souls like yours and violated them in the worst way possible.”

“Yes, what you did was horrible, but that was a long time ago.” Dean sighed. “We all have a past, Cas.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“True,” Dean conceded. “No matter how sorry you are or how guilty you feel, it won’t bring any of those people back, Cas.” Dean’s voice hardened and the angel’s face remained unchanged while Dean talked, but his wings twitched and tensed around them so Dean quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t redeem yourself either – sticking up for humans, making a good impact with what you do and how you use your powers? That’s the best choice you can make, if you ask me. And one worthy of forgiveness.”

Cas was silently watching him, his eyes dancing in the soft moonlight. The intensity of it was like being swallowed by the ocean and Dean felt the urge to look away, still getting used to the way Cas liked to study his face sometimes, as if memorizing it. It was disarming, but Dean felt himself embracing it, holding on to Cas’ gaze as it drowned him.

Suddenly a burst of yellow merged with Cas’ blues. Thin golden reflections flickered across his eyes and Dean followed them back to their source as the soft _thud thud thud_  from the leftovers of the storm dropped from the branches over their heads.

The clouds had given way to the meteor shower that splattered the night with golden trails running fast across the sky, each glowing streak fading just as quickly as it began. Dean felt his mouth going slack, with his neck craned up, trying to count every flickering wisp of light that lit up the night.

“Make a wish, Dean,” Cas murmured and pressed closer.

“You make wishes on shooting stars, not meteors,” he said without taking his eyes from the sky.

“Technically shooting stars aren’t even stars, they’re usual meteors. What you’re watching now _is_ shooting stars.”

“You’re such a nerd.” Cas made a happy noise and Dean finally took his eyes from the stars. And there was that smile that could take over the world – all sweet and tracing his eyes with beautiful lines, and Dean hoped his heart would stop trying to explode out of his chest because _he still has a wish to make, damn it._

Dean cleared his throat and looked up again, closing his eyes. He frowned in concentration; it wasn’t like he believed in this kind of crap, he didn’t even used to look at the sky. His life was made of concrete ideas, plans his feet could follow, not high up between stars and foolish dreams, but it seemed like all of that had changed the moment Cas had come crashing into his life. _Okay, here goes nothing._

He made his wish, heart pounding in his chest, and opened his eyes, smirking and shaking his head. _Silly._

“Dean–” Cas sounded scared.

Dean’s smile slipped away and he met the angel’s eyes

“Y-you… you were thinking too loud again.”

“What?!”

“I didn’t mean to hear it.”

_"Damn it, Cas!”_

“I’m sorry.”

“Wishes are a personal thing!”

“I…”

“Is nothing sacred anymore?!”

“Dean–”

“Unbelievable.” Dean felt himself blushing and turned away to hide it. He was so stupid. Why did he have to think about _that?_ Why didn’t it cross his mind that a freaking mind reader was sitting right beside him?! What was he? A schoolgirl? A kiss?! Really? Out of everything he asked for a kiss. This was a disaster, an utter, end-of-the-world-kind of a disaster and suddenly the nine hundred foot high precipice in front of him looked very tempting.

“Did you mean it?” Cas whispered, his voice husky and deep.

“What?” Dean stopped outlining his grand escape plan for the time being and glanced at Cas.

“Did you?” Cas’ eyes were steady on him, overflowing with affection, all open, unguarded and Dean couldn’t find it in himself to lie.

“Yes.”

Cas hummed in thought, pulling at a string from the blanket. Dean sighed. “Look, I get it, okay? This was stupid. I didn’t think you were listening. I’m giving you the cop out, we’ll pretend this never happened. Just take me back down.”

He started to pull himself up when Cas’ hand stopped him. Cas coaxed him closer, his hands tracing Dean’s shoulders and pulling their faces tentatively nearer. “Dean,” Cas breathed, the thick and warm murmur meeting Dean’s skin in a puff of air. “I want it too,” he said, lips brushing against Dean’s with the shape of each word, and that was all the permission Dean needed. He closed the final gap separating them and covered Cas’ soft, warm lips with his - the kiss was chaste, lips on lips, but it felt amazing.

When he pulled away, Cas still had his eyes shut, his cheeks flushed red. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t reacting at all and Dean swallowed down his nervousness. “Are you okay?” Dean whispered against the angel’s lips, cupping Cas’ cheek.

Blue eyes opened lazily and made Dean’s heart stumble in his chest. Cas was truly a vision - all beautiful eyes, half-lidded and glowing brighter than ever, tousled hair, slightly parted lips and his big, dark wings all splayed out and magnificent. “God, you’re beautiful,” Dean gasped.

“Dean.”

Long lashes caressed his fingertip as Dean stroked Cas’ cheekbone in a lazy trail from the first patch of sharp stubble down to the full line of his bottom lip. Dean tugged at it softly, drawing out a shaky breath from Cas’ mouth, all red and begging him for more. Dean complied and brought their lips together.

The initial touch of flesh was much like the first time, each one getting used to feeling the other like this - bare, pliant and willing to be taken. Dean tilted his head and nudged Cas’ mouth with his, encouraging the angel to open up to him.

Cas exhaled a soft little moan and finally let him in. Dean’s heavy panting was the first thing claiming the angel’s mouth until Dean couldn’t hold it any longer and darted his tongue in, swallowing Cas’ whimper with it. Cas was warm and delicious, and Dean got lost in him, consumed by the broken moans and hoarse gasps that were slowly driving him crazy.

The air grew charged around them and Dean pulled away, smiling as his teeth nipped and sucked at the plump flesh of Cas’ mouth. Cas gasped in surprise and Dean buried his hands under the angel’s shirt, clawing at the skin lightly and eagerly pulling him into his lap.

Dean shifted his position and Cas settled himself between his legs, his muscled thigh rubbing against the linen clad outline of Dean’s half hard cock, dragging a new series of sinful and rich sounds from both of them. “Fuck.” Dean’s voice emerged shaky and Cas laughed against his mouth, running his hand over the nape of Dean’s neck, moving up to grasp at the short strands of hair and using it to drag their mouths together again.

Dean couldn’t help but moan, guttural and raw, his fingers roaming higher to touch at the soft ebony feathers of Cas’ wings. The angel whimpered in return, involuntarily clenching his wings around them while cupping Dean’s chin with both hands to tug at his lips and suck with earnest.

Dean broke the kiss to press their foreheads together; their breaths were coming out in shaky gasps, labored and sharp, and undeniably the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

Dean pulled away slowly, taking in the sight – flushed cheeks, lips beautifully bitten, swollen and panting for air, with stars still flashing bright in Cas’ lust-darkened eyes.

Dean smiled, remembering what they had come here to do. “What did you wish for?” he asked thickly, then chuckled and added jokingly, “No, wait, don’t tell me or it won’t happen.”

Castiel smiled down at him. He gave Dean a languid peck on the lips and breathed, “It just did.”

Before Dean’s heart could complete a backflip in his chest, a cough pulled them out of their daze.

“Inias?” Castiel jumped to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

A slim figure with long, disheveled hair walked brusquely in their direction, his pastel-yellow cloak rippling behind him to reveal his white tunic, cream pants and his angel blade attached to the hip. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Castiel,” he said, his voice sharp with urgency.

His white wings folded at his sides as the angel’s stern, cold green eyes darted between the two of them. “Lucifer has taken over the Kingdom of Micalzo and killed Raphael.”

“What?”

“Michael is going crazy. And you were nowhere to be found, I thought something had happened to you too and instead… instead you’re…” He pointed between Cas and Dean. “With a human? I- I don’t understand.”

Castiel flinched, his wings twitching madly behind him. “That’s not of importance now.” Cas straightened his spine, his lips set in a tight line, and forced his wings into stillness against his back. “You go ahead, I am coming right after you.”

“Very well.” Inias turned and left.

Dean didn’t know what stung the most, the dismissive way Cas had referred to what had happened between them; or the fact that every ounce of tenderness the angel had shared with Dean just moments ago was now completely gone from his face as he turned back to Dean.

“Cas?”

“My family needs me,” Cas said quietly, his eyelids lowered, not quite meeting Dean’s eyes, and something deep in Dean’s gut ached. Cas was gone and the one invading Dean’s personal space now was Castiel, the angel of the lord. A surge of hurt clawed thickly at him and Dean looked away.

Dean gasped sharply when Cas gripped him by his waist without waiting for his acknowledgment and quickly maneuvered them both through the air and onto the ground, making Dean’s stomach twirl with the sudden change in gravity.

“Shit, Cas, a little warning would be great.”

“I need to go.”

“Cas…” But the angel was already leaving, spreading his wings and flying away. “ _Cas!_ ”

Dean huffed through his clenched teeth, pacing back and forth a few times before coming to a halt at his starting point. He dropped his head to his chest, bringing his hand up to cover his eyes. _That crazy son of a–_

He snapped his head and looked up. “You know what?” he shouted. “Fine. If that’s what you want, just go ahead and leave,” he yelled at the empty sky. “See if I care.”

He spun on his heels and stalked his way to Chevro.

“Let’s go girl.” Jerking her reins, he urged her forward, upping the pace until they were flying through the streets, the cold night’s wind numbing his cheeks and Chevro’s dark mane whipping at his hands, making him want to go faster. A couple of pedestrians watched them pass as Chevro’s hooves clattered on their trail.

They came to a sliding stop once they got home. Dean led his horse into her stall, slowly removing her saddle and the blanket underneath. He gave the leather a quick wipe-down, then went to put it on the stand, placing the blanket neatly folded over it.

Then he brushed her – taking his time, losing himself in taking care of his girl, enjoying her soft snorts, her little nibbles as he moved around her and the steady rhythm of her breathing. When he was done, Dean moved to her front, caressing her mane lightly, then bringing their heads together. Chevro nickered quietly in return, nudging his face with her soft nose. He leaned his chin on her, watching her liquid brown eyes. “Why are angels so fucking complicated, huh?”

She shoved him in reply and Dean gave a step back, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “All right, I’ll get on with it.” He turned on his heel and exited the stall. “Feeling sorry for myself won’t do me any good anyway,” he mumbled.

Dean filled her watering trough, hauling buckets two at a time from the well, then grabbed three small flakes of hay to leave under her grain bucket.

“Goodnight, girl.”

Dean got inside and managed to avoid his brother on the way to his bedroom, closing the door and getting into bed as quickly as possible.

Dean stared at the dark ceiling and took a deep breath through his nose, forcing his eyes closed. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day and he couldn’t afford to have a sleepless night.

He punched his pillow a couple of times, then shifted from lying on his back to his stomach; he battled with his blankets, then turned to his left side, heaving a long sigh. It took him a couple more tries, but eventually he fell asleep wishing he wasn’t alone tonight.

 

 

** Present day **

Dean woke up to an insistent _tap tap_  sound that was driving him crazy. His head was pounding, but he was warm, tucked under his covers that he’d pulled all the way up to his neck.

_Hold on – his covers… his bed then?_

He didn’t remember getting here, but he didn’t feel the inclination to find out, not when he had just been rudely taken away from the most amazing dream: silvery blue lights and plump lips - Dean wanted to go back to that.

_Tap tap._

Dean groaned and rolled over, wiping away the fresh drool and squinting at the bright spring sunshine that cut his bedroom in half; dust motes danced gracefully in the sunlight as he lay on his side and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

A fresh layer of still smoldering ashes covered the fireplace’s floor, which explained the warm, comfortable air filling the room.

_Tap tap._  Annoyed, Dean took his eyes from the orange cinders and finally saw the origin of that irritating noise. The window was cracked open to let the room breathe and ease some of the smoke out; on the outside, a small lazuli bunting swiftly hopped to the opposite side of the window before tapping again. Its plumage shimmered under the sunlight as the bird moved again, changing from deep blue feathers on the head and back to a vibrant red chest and white belly.

Suddenly his line of sight was obstructed and he was met by the back of Bobby’s brown coat as the old man shushed the bird and closed the window. “Go away, there’s no one here for you to collect.” Bobby turned to him and jabbed his thumb in the now empty window’s direction. “See this? This is the fucker upstairs coming to snatch ya.”

“Wh–” Dean coughed against the grunginess in his voice and repeated, “What?”

“A death omen,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bobby helped Dean to sit against the headboard, then proceeded to grab a cup from the bedside table, filling it with water before giving it to Dean. “Remember Becky? Energetic little blonde, never shuts up. Kinda got obsessed with your brother when you were kids?”

“Kinda hard to forget.” Dean drank the entire water in two gulps then handed it back to Bobby for a refill.

“She said that last week a bird kept coming up to her kitchen to knock on her window. All day. The damn thing kept coming back.” Bobby scratched his beard, glancing back at window again. “Next morning Becky found her cousin dead in the guest’s bedroom.”

“And you believe that crap?”

“I don’t,” Bobby said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But after the state you were in last night, I’m not taking any chances.”

Dean rolled his head at the ceiling and groaned. “This is barely a cold, no one’s gonna die because of a freakin’ bird.”

“Barely a cold?!” Bobby threw his hands up. “You were like a damn sponge of booze when we found you on the beach last night.” He scratched the top of his head for an exasperated moment. “You were so close to the water it’s a damn miracle you didn’t drown, if you ask me. You were cold as ice and your brother and I had to take turns through the night to keep you warm and hydrated.”

Bobby shuffled over and sat at the edge of the bed, one of his legs tucked underneath him so he could face Dean. “Christ on a stick, son, what the hell were ya thinking?”

“Can’t a guy go for a walk around here?”

“Not in the middle of a damn storm, you can’t.”

“I didn’t know the whole sky was about to take a piss on me,” Dean mumbled.

“Yeah, that’s spring for you these days. Damn weather is all twisted up like a pretzel.”

“Dean!” His giant of a brother stormed into the room, almost knocking down the door in the process. Dean rolled his eyes internally. “Bobby, why didn’t you warn me? I thought he was still sleeping.”

“Hold your horses, will ya? He just woke up. Sorry for wanting to make sure he wasn’t gonna kick the bucket for good before coming to get ya.” Bobby stood up to leave, cursing under his breath. “I’m getting too old for this, you damn idjits,” he said, heading for the stairs. “Gonna get your brother something to eat. We don’t want him starving to death after all the work we’ve had saving his freezing ass.”

Sam scratched the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Bobby.” He turned to Dean and the smile disappeared as he bent over and punched Dean on the shoulder.

“Ouch, you jerk!”

“I’m the jerk? We were going crazy looking for you yesterday. Ellen said you were going off the deep end when you left her house.”

“That’s one way of putting it…”

“You were barely conscious when Bobby and I found you, drunk off your ass and freezing! How should we put it?”

A pang of guilt settled deep in the pit of his stomach and Dean looked away, sagging against the pillows. “Does Mom know?”

“That her oldest son is a jackass? Kinda hard to ignore.” Dean snorted and Sam fell into the mattress next to him. “Nah, I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want to worry her.”

Dean clenched his jaw. He had been irresponsible, that much he had to admit, but at the time, finding numbness had been too tempting to ignore. His family didn’t deserve to have to keep watching out for his sorry ass, they already had enough problems on their shoulders - most of them thanks to Dean. He needed to get it together and stop being a burden to everyone. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Sam took in a deep breath and Dean could see him from the corner of his eye bunching the pillow into a ball under his head. “I’m glad you talked to Dad though,” he said, lightly scratching his stomach before letting his hands rest on top of it.

“Yeah, it was… enlightening.”

“Now, _that_ is one way of putting it.” They both laughed before falling into a peaceful silence. Dean’s eyelids were getting heavy and he muffled a yawn when his brother spoke again. “So, you and Cas, huh?”

“Me and Cas.” Dean paused and rubbed his head, the pain had subsided, replaced by a sudden drop in energy and the urge to close his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me he was getting married?”

“Because every time I even tried to mention Cas’ name you went ballistic, remember?”

_Oh, shit, right._  “Hm-hm.”

Sam propped on his elbows and stared at him. “And why did you never tell me about you two, you ass? You knew I liked you together.”

“I never told anyone,” Dean said quietly and studied his half empty glass, holding it by the base and twisting it to watch the contents swirl gently. “But people ended up finding out on their own.” He set down the glass on the bedside table and cast a sideways glance at his brother. “It’s not my fault that you’re clueless as a potato.”

Sam stole one of his pillows and hit him square in the face before settling back down again. “You could have told me, you know?”

“I know.” Dean nodded in agreement and raised his eyes to his brother who was picking at his nails. “I’m sorry I didn’t, I just… I was afraid that if I got you involved, you would be in danger too.”

“So you knew it was dangerous for you two to be together?”

“Yes.”

“Like _death_ kind of dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“And you still did it anyway?”

“I would have done anything for him.”

“What about now?” They both jumped at the higher pitched voice and whipped their heads to the doorway where Gabriel stood, arms crossed in front of his chest and his so-familiar smug expression plastered all over his face.

Bobby appeared close behind, a butter knife in his hand, with murder in his eyes and a promise of an ass kicking.

“Fear not, loverboy,” Gabriel said, waving a dismissive hand at Bobby. “I talked to your father and you were indeed telling the truth.” The angel bounced into the room and grinned. “Your prayers have been answered - I’m here to help you win my brother back.”


	9. Chapter 9

** Four years ago **

So the thing was this – Dean kissed Cas, Cas kissed him back and then the feathered asshole had ran off, leaving Dean to a cold bath and a serious case of blue balls. That had been a week ago and Dean hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since.

Dean yawned deeply. His eyes hurt from staring into nothing all night long studying the different patterns the moonlight drew across the ceiling. At least that alternative had been better than falling asleep to the endless dreams of bright blue and silver lights with beautiful dark shapes. He rubbed his eyes and dragged his ass out of bed – he needed to get up earlier than usual today if he wanted to get to Miinoag city before lunch. Dean looked out the window, groaning to see a dark and gloomy day announcing the beginning of winter – the perfect fit for his mood.

On his way to the bathroom his toes collided with a hard, solid object. “Dammit,” Dean cursed loudly, not caring if he woke up Sam. After some inspection in the almost darkness, he found the origin of his pain - his recurve bow that had been left out of place the night before.

“Fucking angels,” Dean rasped, putting his bow away and massaging his toe. “With their big-ass wings.” He made a couple of wobbly steps and closed the bathroom door behind him. “Messing with my goddamn life.”

Everything Dean had feared would happen, _did happen_ : Cas was a no-show, probably drowning in regret somewhere. And Dean was pissed, oh boy was he pissed. But he was also confused. The way Cas had kissed him, the way he had melted in his arms, that wasn’t an _I just see you as a friend_ reaction. Friends didn’t moan into each other’s mouths, friends didn’t fit together like they had that night. So what was up with the cold shoulder now? What had changed since the moment Inias had appeared?

And how selfish of Dean to even be thinking about his feelings getting hurt with the shitstorm that was about to hit the whole town square in the face. The war had officially started, Lucifer and his army had invaded Micalzo, and everyone who had opposed them so far was dead.

Word was out that Michael was trying to reason with Lucifer. The two would meet in the near future to try to reach an agreement, but if that didn’t work and Lucifer didn’t back down, the angels from Pir would join the war and help their allies from Micalzo to get their kingdom back.

Humans weren’t required to enlist and Dean hoped this would all be solved before any of his family or friends were affected. And Cas… if Lucifer and Michael didn’t reach a peaceful resolution, would Cas leave for war too? If that was the case, he would have to leave soon. A dreadful feeling settled in the pit of Dean’s stomach and he clutched at the edge of the sink, hanging his head with a sigh.

Dean stared at his reflection in the mirror – there were shadows in his green eyes and he shook his head, forcing those thoughts out of his mind. He had work to do, there was no use on dwelling on all the _ifs_ right now. His hands moved quickly as he got dressed, set up his weapons and went downstairs.

“Hey.” Sam was already in the kitchen making his breakfast.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“I have a few errands to make, I need new material for my work back at the laboratory. What about you?”

“Gonna get Morganti steel. Bobby found a trader selling it for a good price in Miinoag city, but he asked me to check up on the quality first.”

Dean finished his sandwich in three large bites, swallowed down his milk in one shot and was up and leaving the kitchen before Sam had even started his own meal. “See ya.”

He stopped by Bobby’s forge first and then rode beyond the walls and through the Vran forest that separated the two cities. The journey wasn’t long, Chevro’s quick hoofbeats making the ride a welcome distraction from his thoughts between the branches snapping beneath their feet and the wild, sweet smells filling the air.

Miinoag City had sprung up where two large rivers converged, which gave it the fertile conditions and productive means to grow until it had become one of the major cities in the kingdom. Most of the rarest materials could be found here and it didn’t hurt that the food was delicious as well.

Dean went straight to the merchant Bobby wanted him to see – Albert, a man with long neatly braided hair, fine clothes and a long scar above his eyebrow that made him stand out among the maze of people in the market at that hour. The negotiations went as expected, the steel was perfect for their new weapons and Dean left with a smile on his face and a huge deal in his pocket.

As soon as he was done he went to his favorite place in the whole city: the Bed and Ale Inn, a two-story building made entirely of wood. Each window was covered with heavy red curtains as well as every table; Dean found it cliché, but he didn’t come here for the decoration anyway. He was a regular customer whenever he came to the town; here he could fill his belly and spend his time in the arms of beautiful girls who would offer their services for the right price.

When he got in, Bela Talbot, the innkeeper, greeted him with a wide smile.

“Dean, darling. It’s been a while.” She escorted him to his regular table, swinging her hips along the way. “What’s it going to be? The usual?”

“A mug of ale would be awesome, for starters,” he said, sitting and rubbing the back of his neck.

“How about some fun? Are you looking for any?” Dean looked up. Somehow now it felt wrong to say _yes_. It wasn’t like Cas was his boyfriend and Dean owed him any kind of fidelity or some crap like that. They had kissed and Cas had left him hanging. So why couldn’t he say it? _Yes._ He just had to get it out and let himself get lost in the arms of someone else.

Dean cleared his throat. “Maybe later.”

“Sure, you’re the boss.”

Dean drank a couple of mugs, each one making it easier to muffle the questions that kept popping in his head. A couple of beautiful women sent suggestive looks in his way; some time ago he would have graced them with his most charming smile and probably ended up in bed with them. Now, he looked away and ignored them all, the thought of having something other than strong muscles and dark feathers against his body making an icy wave of shivers run down his spine.

This town wasn’t so welcoming all of a sudden and he wasted no time taking off on his mare as fast as she could stand.

They were halfway home when big, dark wings expanded ahead of them, blocking their path.

Castiel touched the ground, his mussed hair hidden under his silver-blue hood, and looked at Dean with bright blue eyes and a small smile crossing his lips. "Hello, Dean."

"Goodbye, Cas." He passed by the angel without looking at him.

The angel flew over him and stopped in front of him and Chevro, blocking their way again. "You're mad." He tilted his head, a small line between his eyebrows.

"What makes you say that?" Dean asked sarcastically.

Cas glared at him in reply.

"Oh, this?" Dean pointed at his face, drawing a circle with his finger. "This is my happy face."

Castiel sighed and looked down before speaking again in a husky voice. "Last week.” The little frown between his eyes deepened. “It was wrong of me to leave like that."

"You don't say." Dean tried to move again, but Cas held Chevro's reins. She didn't put up a fight like Dean anticipated and accepted a pat from the angel.

"Hey, whose side are you on?" Dean protested. Chevro squealed in return with her ears splayed to the side.

"She likes me," Cas said, smiling softly.

"That makes one of us." Dean faked a smile, the soreness he felt in his throat tinging his words sharp and strained.

Cas looked away and stretched out his fingers in an abortive movement to touch Dean’s leg before deciding against it. “Dean, can we talk? I would like to explain myself.” He looked up, more determined this time, with the hopeful doe eyes that Dean could never resist.

Dean rolled his eyes heavily. "All right."

Cas grinned that gummy smile of his that reached his eyes and wrinkled the corners.

"C'mon, get up here." Dean waved his hand so the angel would sit behind him. “Let’s get home first, then we can talk.”

Castiel took his place on the horse, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist, his body warm and firm as Cas nestled himself around him. Dean immediately felt at ease, a sense of belonging rushing through him. Cas’ hot breath ghosted over his neck and Dean missed the way it had tasted in his mouth; the way Cas had surrendered to that kiss and had uttered Dean’s name with an urgency and a tenderness Dean had craved every moment since.

“My behavior was inexcusable.” Castiel’s warm lips brushed against the nape of Dean’s neck and made the small strands of hair rise with his soft exhales. “My family needs me and I… I can’t afford to get distracted from my duties and kissing you… kissing you was…” he trailed off.

“A mistake?” Dean provided.

Castiel was silent for a moment. “Is that what you think?” came the gloomy murmur.

_No_. “Don’t you?”

Cas’ grip around Dean loosened. He removed his head from Dean’s neck and Dean immediately hated the cold that followed. Dean restrained himself from wrapping his fingers around Cas’ wrist and pulling him against him to feel Cas’ warm body cradling his again.

The possibility that Cas’ answer could be _yes_ hit Dean like a sucker punch before he swallowed down the ache in his chest. There had to be something stopping Cas from saying no because Dean refused to believe that that night – under the stars, making reckless wishes to stray meteors – hadn’t meant the same for Cas as it had for him. There had to be something.

_Right?_

“Dean, I...”

The rustling of feathers interrupted whatever Cas was going to say. Dean looked back at first, thinking Cas had bolted and flew off again, but he was still there, staring past Dean to something ahead of them. Dean was about to turn his head to see what was causing Cas’ eyes to widen and his hands to clasp around Dean’s waist, when Chevro reared up in fear, almost sending them both to the ground.

He pulled the horse’s reins and faced forward. An angel stood in front of them, his fair skin looking unnaturally white under the sunlight; he had short, straight hair, light as corn in the sun and his eyes were as blue as Cas’. But what made Dean’s hair stand straight up along the back of his neck was the fact that his wings were just as dark, too.

“Do not say a word and leave when I tell you to. Let me handle this,” Castiel whispered to him before climbing off the horse and positioning himself between Dean, Chevro and the angel in front of them.

“Lucifer,” Cas announced.

_Shit._ Well wasn’t that just wonderful. Out of all the places and all the angels, they had to be in this spot to find this exact angel. Dean’s day just kept getting better.

“Hello, brother.” Lucifer’s lips twisted in a cold smile. “It pleases me to find you here, Castiel. I was just on my way to speak with our brother.”

“I didn’t know you were meeting with Michael today.” Castiel tried to sound calm, but Dean could sense his distress. He looked around, trying to find a way for them to get out of here intact.

“Yes, I can see that,” Lucifer replied, looking up at Dean, finally acknowledging his presence. “You don’t like to use your wings anymore, Castiel?”

“I do not mind giving them a rest from time to time.”

“Right.” Lucifer didn’t bother to fake a smile this time. “Who is your friend?”

“He was just passing by, Lucifer. Trying to get home to his family.” Castiel was sounding more tense by the second and Dean felt his own heartbeat spike.

“Of course, I was just trying to be polite with the human, that’s all.”

“My name is Dean. Not _human_. Dean,” he rasped. Both Lucifer and Castiel turned their heads to him, Castiel was almost spitting fire in his direction.

“Dean, huh?” Lucifer sent Castiel a blatant look. “Snappy, this one, isn’t it? You always liked wild toys, Castiel.”

Dean was about to tell the son of a bitch to shove it in _a place where the sun doesn’t shine,_  but Castiel beat him to the punch. “He is not a toy, Lucifer. Why don’t we talk, just the two of us? It’s been a while, I’m sure there is much to discuss.”

Lucifer wasn’t listening anymore, his eyes were locked on Dean. He advanced slowly, his feet moving smoothly over the ground, like a snake getting ready to strike its prey. The prey in this case being Dean.

“So, _Dean,_ do you consider you and Castiel friends? Equals? Just acting like two humans on horseback having a lovely day?”

“We were having a great day, all right, until you showed your ugly face.”

“Dean!” Castiel barked while Lucifer threw his head back and laughed – a loud, disturbing sound that made the hairs on Dean’s arms rise.

When Lucifer lowered his head again, his eyes were fired up with light. He thrust his palm toward Dean and time seemed to slow down for a brief moment while Castiel launched forward to stop whatever intentions Lucifer had, a small _No_ forming on his lips.

Before Dean could even blink, time rushed back again – a burst of black and red light hit him and shoved him hard into the ground. Dean tried to breathe, but the impact flared through his bones and compressed his lungs, making him cough instead.

Lucifer raised his hand towards Dean again, his face distorting in a malicious smile as a second ball of red and dark light formed in his palm. Dean rolled onto his side, the pain stinging his eyes as he drew his sword. The weapon was probably pointless, but he wasn’t going down without a fight – first, though, he had to get up, which seemed an impossible job to do within the second he had left to live.

A new blast destroyed the soil beside Dean and he looked up, surprised Lucifer had missed. The angel wasn’t marching towards him anymore; instead, Lucifer had been shoved into the nearest tree and Castiel stood between the two now as a barrier of massive black wings and blue and silver grace.

“You will not touch him,” Cas roared and Dean would be scared of the way his gravelly voice had deepened into something almost unrecognizable, except for the memories whispering in the back of his head: Cas smiling sweetly, murmuring _I could never hurt you,_  telling Dean there was nothing to fear.

Lucifer staggered to his feet with untidy clothes and hair a mess from the impact. “You would go against your own kin, your own _brother!_ For a human?”

“Please, brother. I do not wish to hurt you.” Cas’ voice was pleading, both his hands raised in placation, trying to bring his brother to reason. “But I will, if you insist on hurting Dean.”

Lucifer didn’t speak for a moment, then a tight-lipped smile altered his face. “You’re naive, little brother, if you think you’re stronger than me.”

A new explosion flared from his hands, red and dark blasting toward Cas and Dean, turning their vision into darkness and fiery reds, roaring and burning the air around them. Dean raised his sword, steadying himself for the pain.

Then the air changed, icy blue velvet caressing his hands as Cas’ cloak floated behind the angel and Castiel flared his black wings in front of Dean, the massive wall of feathers protecting him from the blast.

Cas raised both of his hands and a burst of blue and silver collided with the dark and blood colored one. Someone screamed, and Dean could only guess it was Lucifer because Cas remained a solid armor of steady icy blues and warm feathers sheltering Dean from the licking flames.

“Castiel!” Lucifer stopped their explosive fight and launched forward, then up, gripping Cas along the way and lifting them both from the ground. The movement caught Castiel by surprise, giving Lucifer the upper hand to elbow Cas in the face, the blow making him spit out blood before Lucifer punched his stomach. “This is one thing your filthy humans should have taught you.” Another punch. “You can use more than your grace in a fight, little brother.” Punch. “Fists work just fine.”

Lucifer’s knuckles were stained with blood as they stopped their trajectory and started to fall. Castiel’s feeble attempts to free himself from his brother’s restraint ended when they collided with the ground, Lucifer using Castiel as his shield and directing all the impact to Castiel’s body.

Lucifer got up, towering over the bloody figure of his sibling, who struggled to get up only to collapse again with a moan. Dean moved slowly while Lucifer’s attention was solely on Castiel.

“You should have listened to me, Castiel,” Lucifer said. “You’re not strong enough to withstand me.”

Castiel met Dean’s eyes just as he approached Lucifer from behind, quickly looking back to his brother when Lucifer raised his hand, getting ready to strike one last time.

“You know,” Castiel spoke up, voice trembling, but defiant. “There’s one thing you don’t have.”

“Oh, yes?” Lucifer mocked, stopping his hand midway. “What is that?”

“A human on your side,” Castiel replied as Dean lifted his sword, two hands holding the hilt to plunge the blade heavily in the soft, vulnerable flesh above the bone where wing and shoulder met. A guttural, gravelly scream left the angel’s mouth and Dean pulled the sword out in one firm motion, spilling out a rush of thick, dark red blood.

Dean ran to Castiel’s side and helped him to his feet before Lucifer could recover from the sudden pain. “We need to go, now,” Dean ordered, spinning them and getting ready to sprint out of there. Castiel’s legs were failing beneath his weight and Dean gripped him harder, dragging Cas and forcing him to match Dean’s pace.

From behind them Lucifer spat out noise Dean couldn’t discern – too focused on pulling Castiel away from the danger – followed by rustling and shuffling.

Dean cursed internally.

“There’s no time,” Castiel panted and turned to face Dean. “You’re not going to like this.” Cas hugged him, warm and soft, in a shelter of dirty feathers and bloody skin that smelled like burned earth. And Dean would take it all, good and bad, and right now wasn’t the time for this, but Dean wrapped his arms around the angel and closed his eyes – if he was dying, he would burn with Cas.

“Hold on tight,” Castiel whispered into his ear.

“Wha—?” Dean didn’t finish his question. Castiel cried out in pain, finding the power his wings needed to lift them up, and then their feet were moving on thin air as Castiel raised them up into the sky.

“Castiel!” The high-pitched call dissolved as they climbed up at the speed of Castiel’s strong wings. Dean looked down at Lucifer who was pointing both hands at them – fingers stretched out, palms up, eyes shining brightly red as he shot a new blast of energy toward them.

“Cas, look out,” Dean yelled, holding the angel tighter in a useless attempt to protect him from the whipping flames.

An explosion of dark reddish grace hit Cas’ left wing, a muffled yelp escaped his lips and they stopped ascending, plummeting just as fast as they had risen.

“Cas!” Dean yelled again, Castiel had his eyes closed and didn’t reply. They were upside down and hastily falling, with nothing to stop them from crashing.

“Shit, Cas, this isn’t the time to take a nap. C’mon.” He cradled Cas’ face and tried again. “ _Cas!_ ” Blue eyes opened to him, instantly making him feel safe again. “Hey.”

Castiel’s wing was damaged beyond repair, half turned in an awkward position. There was no way the angel could fly and stop their descent. Dean became painfully aware that they were about to die.

The angel’s cheek was still resting on Dean’s palm and Cas took one shuddering breath, trying to flap his wings, but a hiss was all he accomplished. “I can’t fly, I’m sorry.”

Dean shook his head and made peace with what was waiting. His heart beat frantically in his chest. The world raced past them and faded away. And in the middle of it all, shades of blue focused only on him. _Almost there,_  his body screamed at him. The earth was coming and Dean surrendered to it. _Almost there._  The wind whipped at his face, but Dean wasn’t afraid anymore. He felt himself smiling, brain coming to a halt as he let it all go.

Cas covered Dean’s hand and stopped fighting, no more flapping of wings trying to delay the inevitable as he wrapped Dean in a nest of limbs and feathers.

_It’s here._  Just as they crashed, Dean closed his eyes and held on tight.

Everything was darkness after that, only one thought grazing his mind when he lost consciousness. Two wishes, actually - the faces of his family showed up as he wished he could see them again, and blue eyes, bright blue eyes smiling back at him.

And Dean wished. He wished he could have saved him.

_Cas, I’m sorry._

 

 

Dean jolted back into the world and snapped his eyes open. He didn’t know where he was, but it was like an elephant was sitting on his chest. Dean tried to move with a hiss, regretting that decision immediately. _Make it a herd of elephants._  His brain was slowly starting to function properly and snippets of memories came to him.

_Lucifer._

_Castiel getting hurt._

_They were falling._

_Cas!_

“Cas!” he breathed what wasn’t really a sound, more like a gasp of breath scratching his unused throat.

Shades of blue, purple and pink traced the sky with fluffy white clouds in between. Around him, a sea of vibrant wisteria blooms rustled with the strong winter’s wind – they had landed in their secret place. Though that could be over very soon if Lucifer found them.

Dean moved his head and noticed the warm weight covering his body, black wings spreading out on both sides. Castiel lay on top of him, dead to the world, his face resting against the curve of Dean’s neck, tousled hair tickling his chin. Dean held his breath until he felt Cas’ pulse – faint, but steady. _Thank all that’s good!_

“Cas,” he repeated, louder this time.

He moved his hands against the angel’s sides, feeling Cas’ ribcage, the hipbone, then his arms, trying to find out the magnitude of the damage. A few bruises here and there, but it didn’t look too severe. His wings though, that worried Dean. His left wing had a hole in it, big enough that the blood coming out was soaking the ground. They needed to move if they wanted to save Castiel.

A grunt fluttered against his chest. “Dean,” Castiel sighed, low and frail.

“Hey, buddy, I thought I had lost you for a second there.”

“Are we dead?” Castiel paused and added, “I feel like I’m dead.”

Dean let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, welcome to the club.”

Castiel tried to get up, but slumped right back to Dean’s chest with a pained hiss.

“Take it easy, Cas. I’ll help you get up and we’re gonna find you help.”

Castiel laughed bitterly. “I don’t think I will go far with these wings. Besides, Lucifer is still after us. I don’t have enough strength to hide us both, but I can use the rest of my grace to cloak you from him.” He took a deep breath. “You go, my spell will hide you until you get to safety.”

“But if you use the rest of your grace, what happens to you?”

“Dean…”

“No, Cas, no way.” He shook his head against Cas’ hair, pulling away just enough to gently put two fingers under Cas’ chin and force his eyes up to him. “I’m not going without you. We both go or no one is getting out of here.”

Cas’ eyes flickered with tenderness as he watched Dean before the angel shut them, using his hands in a weak attempt to push Dean away. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Why do you have to be the goddamn hero all the time?” Dean fought back, his thumb slowly caressing Cas’ chin, his arm curled tightly around the angel’s waist as he tried to think of another way out of this mess.

“Dean, please just go.” Cas coughed and placed his head on Dean’s chest. A cold sweat ran down Dean’s neck as the winter’s air pressed heavily on his skin. He snuggled Castiel’s frame to him, feeling the angel’s warmth slowly slipping through his fingers. Dean looked away so that Cas wouldn’t see the despair consuming him.

The lush foliage far above them rustled harshly, exposing the sun-split clouds racing across the sky and reflecting different patterns of light and shadow on Castiel’s body. Dean watched them absently, feeling sharp strings of dread burning around his heart and making it beat wildly in his chest.

His last wish before they fell flashed through his head. Funny how two of the only things he had wished in his life had involved Cas. The angel had granted him the first wish through hush gasps and full lips, now it was up to Dean to make the second one come true.

“No,” Dean muttered in a cracked tone, but with a new kind of determination. He closed his eyes, angling his head towards Cas, his lips brushing his ear as he spoke. “I’m not gonna let you die. Not when what you need is exactly in front of you.”

“What?” Castiel breathed against his neck.

“My soul, Cas. You need fuel for your mojo, right?” Dean gulped sharply, a new-found hope sweeping through his every pore. “So just take it.”

“No!” Cas tried to jerk away, but Dean held him down and pulled him closer, strong arms around the angel’s weakened body. “Dean, please, I could kill you.”

“You won’t.” He shook his head. “I trust you, Cas.”

“You know what happened the last time I consumed a soul, Dean. I- I don’t know if, once I start, I’ll be able to stop.”

“I can’t lose you,” Dean whispered the admission so faintly he wouldn’t have been sure the angel had heard him if not for the way Cas briefly stopped struggling. “So don’t make me, okay?”

“I promised I would never do this to you.”

“You need my permission? You have it, Cas.” He grabbed Cas’ hand and placed it flat against his chest. The angel tried to pull away, releasing a frustrated noise into his shoulder when Dean didn’t let him go. “I’m saying yes, Cas. You can have my soul.”

“Dean…”

“Just do it!”

Cas whimpered.

_“Please!”_

Castiel cried out as an intense light flared from the palm of his hand. It was warm and inviting, probing against Dean’s skin, softly at first, more insistently after. Cas started panting into his ear, filling his thoughts with an intoxicating melody before the light entered and his every thought was invaded by pain and bliss.

It was as if Dean’s flesh was being ripped apart and split in half, with a mix of sweetness and fury bursting inside. Dean cried out, arching his back from the ground and gripping Cas’ wrist harder because the angel was pulling away, trying to stop this and they couldn’t. So he gathered his voice and uttered, “Don’t stop.”

A soft gasp left Cas’ lips and the light reached for Dean again, throbbing inside, pulsing around him and making his eyes sting with tears. His whole body was trembling and he clutched at Cas’ arm like a lifeline.

The light enticed him to let go, to seek the sweet release of giving it all away as his body was undone, rebuilt and made into one million fragments again. Cas’ grace scratched its way in, licking and tasting and swallowing him whole. Dean’s soul was being torn apart and instead of fighting back, it let Cas in.

With a muted sob Dean surrendered to the grace igniting his body in shades of silver and blue. He gave everything it asked of him, encouraging it to take more, to take his all, because Dean would give it everything if he had to. Dean would give it the world if he could.

_For Cas._


	10. Chapter 10

** Four years ago **

Dean woke up to a bright smile and soft hands cradling his face. “Hey,” he gasped, his voice gruff and low.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asked with a deep worried frown.

“Umm... Like I’ve been part of one of my brother’s crazy experiments.”

Castiel laughed quietly, his breath warming Dean’s cheeks and lighting up his face. Dean smiled back at him. “You look better.”

“I feel better,” Cas reassured him. He had moved slightly so he wasn’t on top of Dean anymore, but warming his side. “Can you stand?” he asked, absently running his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean closed his eyes, savoring the intimacy of the gesture for a moment before nodding and grunting as they sat up.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Cas touched the naked skin of Dean’s chest.

"Yup. It's not so bad once you blackout." He chuckled at Cas’ worried look.

"I'm sorry, Dean." He looked away. "It was hard to control th–"

"Hey, hey." Dean touched his shoulder bringing Castiel’s eyes back up to lock on his own. "I'm okay, I swear."

Castiel smiled and exhaled slowly. “Thank you. What you did… It was…”

“Don’t mention it, Cas. Right now, what matters is we get our asses out of here before your dick of a brother decides to show up.”

They scrambled to their feet; Dean was more than ready to get home even though he had no idea where he was and Chevro was nowhere to be seen, but she knew her way home and Dean was certain that that was what she was doing right now. At least he hoped so.

As for the two of them, this was going to be a long day. Dean pulled Castiel as the angel staggered through his first steps. “C’mon, buddy.” Dean was supporting most of the angel’s weight as he hobbled forward, taking tentative steps. Most of his natural color had come back to him, but Castiel was still too pale for Dean’s liking.

“You’re still too weak, man. I thought you had taken some of my soul?”

“I only took what I needed to heal the lethal wounds.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He huffed and rearranged their positions to support the angel better. “You should have taken more.”

“And risk killing you? I couldn’t take that chance.”

Castiel missed a step and Dean had enough of it.

“Okay, hop on.” Dean crouched down and waited for Cas to climb onto his back.

“W-What?” There was confusion in the angel’s voice and Dean looked back, smiling at the cute little frown across Cas’ face.

“Never heard of a piggy back ride?” He flashed Castiel a smile.

“I… n-no,” the angel replied, scuffing his boot on the ground.

He couldn’t help but smile to that. “Just, drape your arms around my shoulders, your legs around my hips and I’ll do the rest.”

Cas still looked confused, but did as Dean asked. “I’m not sure how this will help with our current situation, Dean, we should be moving.”

“We will, just…” Dean slipped his arms under the crook of Cas’ knees and adjusted their bodies together as he stood up. “Like this, see?”

Cas’ body was warm as he gently folded his arms over Dean’s shoulders and wrapped himself around him. Dean took a few steps and the angel slowly started to relax, his chin lazily finding its way to Dean’s shoulder and tickling his neck where soft hair met skin.

They slowly made their way through the forest. Despite the sharp force of the winter, everything was vibrant with color, from the old trunks covered with moss to thickets of bushes painted in white and the shifting patterns of light. Flecks of wild mushrooms followed the path outlined by ancient trees whose remaining leaves danced in the wind, and the scent of wood and damp earth filled the air. From the branches above their heads, Dean could hear the chirping of crickets as the day was slowly replaced by night. Dean quickened his step, sending up a silent prayer they would be able to get home before the nightfall.

“This is nice.” Cas’ velvet voice grazed his neck.

“Nice? Your brother just tried to kill us! And he almost succeeded, for that matter. Your definition of nice is kinda messed up, Cas.”

 “Not that part,” he murmured, his lips close to Dean’s ear. “I mean this.” Cas hugged him tighter, burying his nose on the crook of Dean’s neck.

“You’re such a friggin’ sap.” Dean chuckled, but Cas seemed content enough to ignore Dean’s comment.

Perhaps Cas’ meaning of nice wasn’t so messed up after all. Dean could feel his own heart getting stuck in his throat and his chest flickering with warmth just from having Cas closely pressed against him again. Dean swallowed thickly, remembering the night he had also held Cas in his arms, with the angel’s soft lips covering his. He shook his head and forced those thoughts out of his mind - this wasn’t the time for whatever mushy feelings Dean had been developing for the angel. Cas was hurt and they needed to move their asses if they wanted to find him help fast.

Dean estimated they had been walking for about an hour and there was still no sign of the city walls. He was tired. And hungry. But the black wounded wing scraping the ground while he walked reminded him that he couldn’t stop.

“How are you doing, Cas?”

Cas tilted his head slowly and studied his wing through his half-closed eyes. “My wounds are healing fast. Though my wing will take a little longer, I’m afraid.”

“Just hang in there buddy, we should be home shortly.”

It was pitch dark when they reached the city walls and Dean tried to pick up the pace. He hadn’t finished entering the house before he was calling out for Sam as loud as he could.

“Jeez Dean, hold up will y– Oh my god, what happened?”

“I’ll explain later. Go get Gabriel. Hurry!” Dean turned away before his brother could ask any questions and made his way upstairs to his bedroom. Once there, Dean helped Cas into the bed, gently removing his shoes and then tucking him into the blankets. When the angel was properly snuggled under the covers, Dean sat down at the edge of the bed. “Hang in there, Cas,” he whispered and watched the angel close his sleepy eyes.

The door burst open and startled him to his feet. A pissed off angel barged in, taking his place by Cas’ side.

“What the hell happened?” Gabriel inquired.

“Your dick of a brother happened.”

Gabe sent him a perplexed glance. “And you needed to knock him out?”

“What?” Dean snapped his head between Gabriel and Cas. “No, not this one!”

Gabriel gave him a blank stare. “Can you be more specific?”

Dean gave a long-suffering sigh. “Lucifer, okay?”

“Lucifer?” Sam spoke for the first time. “He’s here?”

“Yeah and he found us and tried to kill us. But, just… can we sort out our priorities here?” Dean turned his attention back to Gabe. “Cas. Can you help him or not?”

The golden-eyed angel let out an exasperated breath and examined his brother. “Hey, Cassie.” He shook him slightly. “Wakie, wakie.” Cas opened his eyes with a frown and tried to speak, but Gabriel stopped him. “I know, little brother. Don’t worry, the pain will be gone soon. Just give me a second.” Gabe reached up, positioning his hand flat above Cas’ chest, and closed his eyes. A stream of particles with traces of golden and green light poured down from his palm into Cas body, illuminating the whole angel in a mix of bright shades of green and gold.

Cas let out an excruciating yelp, his back and wings arching off the bed sharply before everything was over. The golden and green rays dissipated and Cas was silent again, his eyes closed, as if nothing had happened.

“Is he okay?” Dean demanded.

“He will be.” Gabriel’s features were back to his joyful self. “Now, care to explain what happened?”

“I told you. We were on our way back when we found Lucifer. He got pissed that Cas was with me and attacked us.” Dean pinched his nose and tried to calm down. “Cas got in the way and saved me.” He glanced at Cas, guilt clawing deep at his stomach as he started to pace back and forth. “Because I just can’t keep my mouth shut! And then we were falling, Cas was hurt badly and there I was, watching him die and I just couldn’t…” Dean came to a halt and took a deep breath. “So I shared my soul with him and then we walked all the way he–”

“Wow wow, hold up a second,” Sam interrupted him, holding up a hand to stop him. “Go back for a moment.”

“What?”

“You gave him part of your soul?”

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged.

“Dean!”

“What?!”

“Are you insane?”

“You ignorant human!” Gabriel snarled before Dean could reply to his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. “There’s a reason most angels don’t take portions of souls directly from the source.”

“I know that.”

“And?” Sam insisted.

“And, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.” Dean darted his eyes towards the angel now peacefully asleep with his mouth slightly open and oblivious to the world. “I trusted him.” When Dean looked up again, two pairs of eyes blinked at him in gradual understanding. He averted his eyes and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

“Well, I guess I need to thank you then, for saving my brother.” Golden eyes met his, Gabriel’s features now soft and kind.

“Don’t mention it.” Dean cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at the angel and his brother.

“Right.” Gabriel clapped his hands. “I think this got awkward enough for one day. Don’t worry, guys, I’ll take good care of Cassie here.”

“What are you doing?” Dean asked when Gabe started to pull Cas up from the bed.

“What do you think? I’m taking my brother to my house.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Dean stepped forward, burying his hands in his pockets. “He’s already asleep, let him rest. I don’t mind keeping an eye on him during the night.”

“Right,” Gabe replied, sending Dean a knowing look. He watched Cas for a moment then sighed. “Disturbing his rest isn’t the best solution, I’ll give you that.” He met Dean’s eyes again and after a beat nodded. “All right then.”

Both Gabriel and his brother left the room, leaving Dean alone with Cas. Dean approached the bed and watched him. He looked peaceful now, with no traces of pain in his face. And Dean felt the urge to reach for him, to feel the lines of Cas’ face beneath his fingertips, the soft hair sliding between his fingers, the curve of his nose, his plump lips, to trace every inch of his body until Dean was sure Cas was really all right.

Dean’s hand was hovering above Cas’ face when the angel opened his eyes up to him. Dean’s breath got caught in his throat, watching the serene blues studying him through the darkness as he reached for Cas’ shoulder.

After a few beats of silent hesitation, he cupped Cas’ cheek, his thumb running along the sharp stubble as he leaned in to kiss Cas’ forehead. Dean closed his eyes, the feel of his lips on warm, delicate skin enough to set his own skin on fire, ready to explode with all the affection Dean had been keeping to himself.

He pulled back and smiled down at Cas. “You should sleep now. You need to rest.”

He started to get off the bed, but Castiel stopped him. “Will you stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere Cas, I’ll stay right here until you get better. Now close your eyes, clumsy wings.” That earned him a smile and it made the shitty day more bearable.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Cas.” Dean took his place on the couch on the opposite side of the bed where he could keep a close eye on Cas. He lay down and gazed at the angel for a while. The night’s sky was completely clean; the moon was full and bright, casting the whole room in a thin silver veil, almost barely there, but enough to illuminate his bed as well as his angel. Dean scratched his jaw, realizing he probably looked like a creep, and turned his head to look out the window.

_His angel._

It wasn’t the first time Dean had thought about Cas as his angel, and looking at him now – perfect, sleeping in _his_ bed and blowing soft puffs of air, surrounded by misty shadows of silver, his expression void of the worries of that day and his black wings carefully curled against his sides – Dean couldn’t keep the feeling of want and belonging from soaring right out of his chest.

Dean took a shuddering breath, a little voice in the back of his head whispering to him that there was more to it than that. There was also… love.

And that admission was like the last brush stroke that completed the once-blank canvas that had been Dean’s life. Because somewhere along the way he started caring about Cas. This strange and marvelous angel had managed to tiptoe his way through Dean’s walls, one moment at a time, one small stroke at a time. He had succeeded in painting all these new emotions into Dean’s life, in giving color, meaning, purpose to it.

Dean wasn’t sure he would be able to survive if this painting colored by Cas’ presence ever went blank again because Dean was in love with him. And saying it at last, even to himself, was like having the sun burning in his chest, warm and whole. He wasn’t afraid of naming it anymore – Dean was in love, he was in love with an angel no less, Dean was in love with Cas and there was no going back.

 

 

It was still dark when Dean jolted awake to screams and a pale form in his bed. “Cas?”

Cas was sitting upright, covered in a thin layer of sweat and bug-eyed as if he had seen a ghost. Dean jumped off the sofa and raced to his side. “Hey.” He touched Castiel’s shoulder and the angel looked up, shaking like a leaf. “What’s wrong?”

The angel hung his head. “I thought...” he started in a strained voice, stopping his train of thought to cover his eyes with his hand. “I saw you dead. I had taken your soul like I did with all those other people. I consumed it all until you had no more life in you.” Castiel raised his hands up to eye level and looked at his palms. “I can still feel it…”

Dean cradled Cas’ face between his hands, urging him to look at him. “It was just a dream. I’m still here, it wasn’t real, okay?” He smiled and coaxed the angel to lie back again. “I’m here, Cas, you don’t need to worry, just sleep.”

Castiel wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were clouded with sadness and fixed on the ceiling. “Yes.” His wavering tone and slight nod made Dean’s insides twist. Dean reluctantly moved away from the bed and took his spot for the night. He forced his eyes closed, but now that he was awake, sleep seemed impossible to achieve any time soon.

“Dean?” Castiel’s small voice broke the silence.

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you sleeping?”

“I would, but a certain angel keeps interrupting my attempts.” Dean turned on his side to observe Cas’ shape in the darkness. Castiel was watching him back.

“I can’t sleep either…” Castiel said, ignoring Dean’s hint. “I’m afraid I will have the same nightmare again.”

Dean shook his head. “For a badass angel, you’re kinda chicken shit, you know that?”

“Thank you for the support.”

“You’re most welcome.” Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the pout he got in response followed by another stretch of silence. He yawned and closed his eyes.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we share the bed?”

Dean snapped his eyes open. “What?”

“It’s just… With you beside me, knowing that you’re all right, maybe it would be easier.”

“That’s just… I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Cas.”

“Why?”

“Because, Cas…”

“I promise I won’t take advantage of you in any way.”

Dean gave a bitter laugh, and wasn’t that exactly the problem? “Right…”

Castiel sighed. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean gulped, clutching the thin cover between his fingers. He wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them and hold Cas in his arms again, but Dean still wasn’t sure why Cas had acted the way he did, why he had run off like that and disappeared for a whole week. And even if Dean refused to believe that kiss hadn’t meant anything to Cas, if there was something stopping Cas, Dean didn’t want to force himself either.

But right now Cas needed Dean, he needed Dean to help keep his inner demons away, and Dean was finding it harder and harder to refuse the angel with each day that passed, so finding his way into bed was an easy choice.

“Scoot over,” Dean whispered. Castiel gasped in surprise, but did as Dean said. Dean adjusted his pillow and somewhere in between his fight with the sheets, Cas found his way to his body, hesitantly reaching for him. Dean instinctively let him in, lifting his arm to pull the tired angel into his arms. Cas exhaled one of his happy little sighs and melted against him, arm draped tightly around Dean’s waist, head resting on his chest.

Dean stayed awake for the longest time, wrapping Cas in an almost painful grip, afraid that if he closed his eyes he would lose this, that when he woke up in the morning Cas would have run off again. So he counted Cas’ steady heartbeats, memorizing the way his chest expanded and contracted, how his hair tickled at his cheek when the angel moved again and buried his nose into Dean’s neck. Dean tried to stop himself from thinking that Cas was scenting his skin - maybe also trying to memorize the little details that made Dean who he was - because Dean still didn’t know what was going on with Cas. So he didn’t grasp Cas’ hair to pull him in closer, or drag his hands across his body like he wanted to, or trail Cas’ neck with his lips. He just stayed there looking out the window, letting Cas take what he wanted, because whatever it was, Dean would give it to him.

“The past week has been hard for my family.” Cas’ words took him by surprise, Dean had been sure the angel would be asleep by now. “And my family has been all I’ve got, my duty to them has been my life. Everything else…”

“Cas–”

“There are things, duties that I have to do and… My duties, my family, they’re my safety, my constant, that has been all I’ve ever known.”

Dean swallowed the knot that had lodged in his throat and tugged nervously at the blankets.

“Then you came along and showed me there’s so much more than that. But I can’t turn my back on them.”

Dean kissed Cas’ temple lightly, tightening his arms around him. “What are they asking you to do, Cas?” Cas let out a shuddering sigh against Dean’s neck. “You can tell me.”

“What you did today.”

Dean shrugged slowly. “It was nothing.”

“It was _everything_ ,” Cas replied and Dean didn’t know what to do to fix the turmoil of emotions catching at the angel’s face and strangling his voice.

“Cas–”

“Can we just stay like this? Just, just for tonight. Please?”

“Sure, Cas. Whatever you need.”

Somewhere between his fight to keep his eyelids open and the warmth coming from the angel cradled in his arms, Dean fell asleep.

 

 

Dean woke up from the deepest sleep he’d had in years. He tightened his embrace around the warm body softly snoring at his side, the lush hair tickling Dean’s nose as he inhaled its fresh aroma.

Dean sighed happily; he felt so comfortable beneath the sheets with a muscled body against his. And to his joy, he could feel the hard press of his cock against the crease of his pajamas. This day was starting rather well.

With his eyes still closed, he moved his head to plant a kiss on the disarray of hair that prickled his neck while slowly moving his hips against the legs that were tangled up in his.

“Dean?” The groggy voice made him open his eyes. _That voice._

All the memories from the day before came to his brain so fast it gave him whiplash.

_Cas!_

“Oh shit!” Dean got up with such speed, he tripped on the sheets and had to make the rest of the trip to the bathroom with a wounded ego and no means to cover his erection properly, pillow forgotten between the mess of sheets.

“Fuck,” he muttered to the bathroom mirror after slamming the door shut. Leave it to him to dry hump a freaking angel of the lord. His resolve to control his instincts around Cas was turning to shit before he even had time to wake up properly.

“Dean, are you all right?” Castiel was just outside the door.

“Peachy,” Dean replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

“You don’t seem _peachy_.”

“I will be if you give me a moment, Cas.” Dean looked at his crotch and sighed, it felt like his balls were going to rot and fall off from the pressure, he massaged his erection trying to ease some of the tension, worrying at his lip to muffle the moan that followed.

“Can I come in?” To Dean’s terror, he heard his brother joining Cas on the other side of the door. “Oh, hey, Cas, you’re up. How are you feeling? Where is Dean?”

Dean threw his hands in the air, there was no way he would be able to jerk himself off with _his brother and Cas_  on the other side of the door. And to think only moments before he had been sure this was going to be an amazing day. Dean covered his face with his hands and groaned in frustration, there was only one thing left to do – a cold bath. He looked at his crotch again. _Make it ice-cold_.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice got closer, as a new, more strident voice, joined them.

“Little bro, how are you feeling?” asked Gabriel.

_What is this? The freaking tavern?_ “I’m coming,” Dean said out loud, then grimaced at his choice of words.

“Is that Dean? Is he all right?”

“I’m not sure, he woke up and ran to the bathroom.” Cas, bless him, sounded honestly confused and Dean thanked his lucky stars the fact the angel hadn’t noticed his arousal or the way he had shamelessly dry humped Cas’ legs. “I was questioning that myself when you arrived.”

The three of them were at the door now, and Dean was about to lose it. “Can’t a guy take a freaking piss alone? I don’t need company, thank you very much, go away!” The only positive thing about this was that his cock wasn’t as hard anymore.

He still took the damn shower.

 

 

When he got to the kitchen, the other three were already at the table attacking their breakfast. A sweet scent led him all the way in, and his mouth watered with the feast that was presented in front of him, waiting for Dean to devour it all.

There were poached eggs, maple-candied bacon, _Sweet!_ , pancakes garnished with different types of fruits - that was definitely Sam’s doing – and the smell of fresh bread and chocolate muffins were all but about to send Dean to heaven.

Sam was the first one to see him, with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and a mouth full of food. “Jess is here.”

Dean looked at his right and there she was – blonde hair, round eyes, coming around the kitchen counter. “Hey, Dean.” She smiled sweetly.

“Hello, beautiful.” He crossed the kitchen to plant a kiss in her cheek. “Oh, man, you should come here more often. You always make the best breakfast. Seriously, when do you two get married so I can just sit around in the kitchen every day doing nothing but eating every damn thing you cook?”

“Dean!” Sam choked on his food.

“Just asking.” He shrugged and took his place at the table. Jessica blushed faintly, and smiled shyly before following him to the table.

“Hate to interrupt matchmaker here.” Gabriel gestured to Dean, looking alternately between Castiel and Sam. “But as I was saying, I went to the castle yesterday after leaving you here. I spoke to Michael.” He took a sharp intake of breath and continued. “It has started. Michael tried to convince Lucifer that angels and humans should live together, as equals, yada yada, but Lucifer didn’t cave. That one was always a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“So what happens now?” Sam gulped.

“Now we go to war.” Gabriel hung his head. “My brothers were always assholes, always competing for who’s right, who’s stronger, who’s better.” His hands tightened into fists. “And because of that, we’re in the middle of this shitty mess.”

“Isn’t there anything Michael can do? Like kill him or something?” Dean asked around a mouthful of food.

Gabriel glared at him in reply.

“What? It’s a valid question.”

“Besides killing _his own_  brother.” Sam gave Dean a pointed look. “Is there any other way to fix this?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so.” Gabriel sighed and took a sip of his milk.

Dean glanced at Castiel who still hadn’t said a word. The angel was looking at his plate, lost in his own thoughts. “Hey,” Dean whispered and Cas darted his eyes to him. “Are you okay?”

Castiel tried to smile, but it faded into nothing. “I am.” He looked away and Dean wanted to reach across the table and take his hand, try to reassure him somehow.

“Michael wants to see you.” Gabriel spoke again, stealing Cas’ attention to him. “He wants to know what Lucifer did to you. I assured him you’re fine, but you know our brother.”

“Yes, I was planning on seeing him after breakfast.” Castiel sipped his coffee, not looking at Gabriel.

“He also wants to talk about the bonfire,” Gabriel added.

The angels shared a knowing look and Cas leaned back against his chair. “I figured he would.”

Dean’s head was turning back and forth between the brothers. “Care to share with the class?”

Gabriel leaned over and kneaded Dean’s shoulder. “One of the wealthiest families in the Kingdom of Mozod made an offer to Michael. In exchange for Cas’ hand in marriage, they will join the fight against Lucifer. So our dear brother Michael has given Castiel an ultimatum. Cas needs to pick one of the candidates from that family to wed.”

Dean nearly spat out his coffee. “Say what now?”

Castiel sighed.

“During the bonfire?” Jessica narrowed her eyes to the men. “I thought the bonfire was a celebration to praise the day the angels came to Earth?”

“It is.” Gabriel turned to Jess. “It is also an occasion for angels from all over the world to reunite in the same place. That’s, according to our dear brother, an excellent opportunity for Cassie to make his choice and help strengthen our alliance with them. God knows we will need it if we want to beat Lucifer and get Micalzo back.” It took Dean all of five seconds to put the pieces together.

_Oh._

“Is this what you meant yesterday?” Dean addressed Cas, ignoring how everyone snapped their heads in his direction.

“Dean–”

“You should have told me!”

“C’mon, Dean-o, it’s not like Cas is announcing this to the world,” Gabriel interrupted with a frown. “Besides, see the bright side, at least my brother is finally getting someone, huh? This could be a good thing.” He nudged Cas’ shoulder.

“I very much doubt so,” Cas mumbled.

“Are you really being forced to do this?” Sam asked.

“By law I’m not under any obligation to do it, but my brother has been pressuring me ever since Lucifer rebelled. And he is using the bonfire as the final deadline.”

“So why don’t you just say no? Tell Michael to go screw himself,” Dean spat out. His voice was loud and fully laced with despair, but he didn’t give a damn.

“It’s not that simple…”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a duty to my family and to do right by them and the kingdom!”

“Right.” Dean faked a smile. “Your constant, isn’t that right, Cas?” he said, ignoring the scrutinizing look from Gabe and the baffled expressions from Sam and Jess.

“Dean,” Sam said. “I know this situation sucks, but aren’t you directing your anger toward the wrong person?”

Dean placed his hands on the table and got up, almost knocking down his chair in the process, before storming out the kitchen, leaving four pairs of wide eyes behind.

“Dean.” Castiel got up. “Where are you going?”

“Need to go, work is waiting. Don’t follow me,” he yelled, not looking back.

Dean went upstairs and slammed his bedroom door behind him. So this was what was stopping Cas.  He was getting engaged. With someone he didn’t even know. Because of his _duty._ Dean huffed, gathering his things for work. All this time, Dean had been fooled. He had to give it to the angel, Dean never saw this one coming. And now that he was actually in l–

Dean closed his eyes, covering his face with both hands, and rested his forehead on the window. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally gathered up the courage to remove his head from the hard, cold glass.

When he got back to the main floor the angels were gone. He glanced at the kitchen table, now empty, and squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps it was better this way, better end this now than get his heart broken later.

Dean turned away and left the house, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind telling him that it was too late for that.


	11. Chapter 11

** Four years ago **

When Dean got off work that day, he got Chevro and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of the Roadhouse. This late in the year most of the town was submerged in a blanket of white. The winter’s wind blew daggers at his skin, leaving a sting of cold behind and his cheeks flushed and sore as Dean entered the tavern. He nodded his greetings to Jo and Ellen who quickly served him a much needed mug of ale.

“Hard time, huh?” Ellen leaned forward over the counter, filling his mug again and ignoring the other customers waiting for her.

“Understatement,” he grumbled after another gulp, wiping his mouth when he was done and asking for another one. Ellen raised an eyebrow at him. “Tonight, you keep them coming until I tell you to stop,” he warned before she could deny him the drink.

“Damn, son, what’s gotten into you? Work problems?”

“Work’s fine.”

“What then?”

“How about a war for starters?”

Ellen paled a little.

“You didn’t know?”

“No one knows that for certain yet.”

“Oh it’s certain all right.” Dean chuckled bitterly. “And now because of that, Cas is being pressured into getting engaged.”

“Cas?”

“And Michael wants him to pick some random angel at the bonfire.”

“You mean Castiel? Your angel friend?”

“My– That’s beside the point now.”

“I see,” she said with an amused smile.

“You see? This plan of theirs is ridiculous. Are you –” Dean trailed off and looked up to see Ellen nodding and smiling at him. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Oh, I’m listening.”

“You– What is that supposed to mean?” Trying to have a normal conversation with Ellen tonight was a lost cause. Dean sighed and looked down at his empty mug, pinching the bridge of his nose. He slid it in Ellen’s direction. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Don’t you back talk me, boy,” she said, filling his mug anyway. “So, Cas, huh?”

“What about him?” Dean emptied his mug in one drag.

“You like him.”

Dean choked. “I do not.” It was one thing to admit his feelings to himself, it was a whole different universe to admit it to other people.

“Might as well go on and admit it,” Ellen said with a knowing look. “I could see it on your face the first night you boys stumbled here.” She grabbed his chin and shook his face.

“Ugh, Ellen, please, people will see you.” He pulled away from her grip and ran his hand through his hair. _This day was his personal hell._

“You kiddos are in a world of trouble if Michael is so hell bent on marrying Cas to someone else.”

Dean snorted. “No shit.”

She threw him a sympathetic look, squeezing his shoulder this time. He looked at her with all the bravado he could muster, then gave up, sagging on top of the counter, his head resting on his arms. “What do I do?” His voice came out muffled, but he could feel Ellen patting his hair in response.

“I think you should let Castiel know how you feel.”

“I’ve done that.”

“Then try again, give him a chance to pick you instead of whatever stranger Michael is arranging for him.”

Dean shook his head; this chick-flick moment had lasted far too long. He straightened up and rubbed his face. “I think I’ve had enough drinks.” He got up, leaving enough bills to pay for his expenses as well as Ellen’s tip. “Thanks for the talk, but I’m not doing anything.”

“Dean!”

“Bye, Ellen.” He turned and left. Dean had done enough, if Cas wanted to go through with that dumb plan, that was on him. As for Dean, he was going to fuck Cas out of his system. That was what he was going to do. _Yes, that’s a pretty simple plan. Cheers to you, Winchester. This is gonna be a piece of cake._

 

 

The next three days were torture. For all his bravado, Dean wasn’t screwing around left and right like he had said he would. Work was more challenging than ever, with errands to run, new materials to forge, more weapons to build. He got up before the sun was up and only got home when the moon was long up in the sky.

On his few nights off he didn’t even feel like going out to find a busty beauty to wrap in his arms and bring home so they could screw like bunnies. Maybe he was getting old, his years of endless stamina long gone, waking up to an awkward erection every morning after a long, restless night.

This night though, Dean decided to have a relaxing time in his bathtub. He lowered himself into the warm water, enjoying this blissful moment away from all the noise in the forge.

He hadn’t seen Cas since he’d told Dean that he was planning on going through with his brother’s fucked up plan. Even though Dean wanted to respect Cas’ wishes, he also had this urge to just grab Cas and run away from this mess – his obsessive control freak of a brother, and this war that would end up stealing Cas away from him, one way or another.

Dean sighed and started washing his body, scrubbing the tension away from his tired muscles; feet first, then legs, before adding more soap to rub his inner thighs; his cock twitched weakly, eager for his attention, but Dean ignored it. His fingers moved up to brush the hard muscles of his stomach, caressing his increasingly sensitive nipples on the way to his neck. It sent a shiver down this body and Dean couldn’t help the whimper that followed.

Dean moved his fingers in languishing motions along his neck and down his chest to rub his nipples again, tracing his body with his other hand all the way to his neglected cock. He wrapped his fingers around it with a sigh of relief, jerking his cock in a slow pace, up and down the thick length, gradually feeling it getting firmer in his grip. Dean laid his head back and closed his eyes, readjusting inside the tub to find a comfortable position against the porcelain rim.

He gave another stroke, thinking about one of the women he’d seen at the Roadhouse recently – large brown eyes, small face with a perky smile and a perfect mix of a curvy body, nice ass and round breasts. Dean tightened his fingers, stroking harder in a desperate attempt to make his stubborn dick get fully hard.

After a while with no significant response, Dean groaned and tried to imagine another woman, her eyes a shade of blue Dean was all too familiar with. Though Cas’ were warmer, more vibrant, and Dean couldn’t help but think of them now. Images of Cas filled his mind and Dean shivered, lust burning inside him in an overwhelming rush.

Dean snapped his eyes open. He could not let his thoughts go there. He tried to think of the woman again, but his erection stayed firmly unresponsive; Dean let go of it and glanced up to the ceiling in frustration.

“Fuck,” he muttered to the empty bathroom.

Dean glared at his traitorous cock and sighed. He couldn’t really blame his body for such a response. The guy was gorgeous and as much as Dean was still pissed at him, the want was still there.

_Want isn’t the only thing there,_  the small voice in his head pointed out.

He groaned in resignation and wrapped his hand around his shaft once more. The soft splashes of water mixed with his labored breathing filled the room, and Dean imagined it was Cas’ breath against his ear, hot and coarse, his body firm and demanding against Dean’s, leaving behind the trail of steam that was currently prickling at Dean’s skin.

Dean was panting hard, grinding against his tight grip as he worked his cock faster with twists of his wrist as he went up and down in rough pulls.

He pinched his nipple almost painfully hard and imagined the slick sounds weren’t water moving against his skin, but hard muscle and warm flesh. Lean, smooth fingers wrapped around him instead of his own roughly calloused hand. Bright blue eyes looked back at him, moaning his name, full lips and rough jaw inciting him to go faster.

Dean cupped his balls with his other hand, rolling them in his fingers as the tension grew stronger low in his stomach. He moaned, hoarse and broken, and dropped his head back against the edge of the tub, mouth slack, chest rising and falling in rapid gasps. Dean’s hand went up, thumb playing around the head, before going down again to cup his balls, moving behind and down to rub his tight puckered hole.

“Cas,” Dean said in a strangled sound, body shivering with the angel’s name filling his mouth while he dragged his fingers back and forth over his entrance, teasing the pink, sensitive skin before pressing one finger inside.

“C-Cas,” he repeated, adding another finger with a loud whimper, fucking himself on his fingers in frantic motions. He spread himself wider with trembling legs, pushing his swollen cock in and out of his clenching grip in quick, harsh snaps of his hips.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped in excruciating pleasure – the two fingers inside him weren’t enough. Not when what he needed was Cas’ cock, stuffing him full and burning inside as Cas pounded him against the hard surface. Dean jerked with blunt abandon and added a third finger, wishing the tongue gliding over his lips right now belonged to Cas, and that the husky voice moaning his name wasn’t only in his head.

Dean shoved his fingers in and out, setting his flesh on fire with each thrust, the increasing heat in his blood moving through his body down to his erection. He gripped at the base of his cock, trying to delay this a little longer, not wanting to leave this fantasy and the image of Cas slamming against his ass.

The imaginary Cas moved with intent and a mischievous smile, sinking deeper and stretching Dean open with each swift thrust. Cas leaned forward to nibble at Dean’s ear, hitting that sweet spot inside him relentlessly until Dean was a quivering mess, his voice thick and gravelly as Cas whispered, “Come for me, baby.”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath of air, toes curling as he rolled his hips in sharp, abortive thrusts and let Cas’ voice push him over the edge.

 

 

When Castiel visited the next day, Dean sneaked through the back door and went straight to the forge, working his ass off all day to keep his mind from wandering to his jerk off session the day before. Later that day when he got back from work, his brother was already home surrounded by his books and his studies. After a brief greeting, Dean headed to the kitchen to fetch them something to eat.

Cooking had always been a relaxing experience for Dean. When he cooked, his mind focused on the food instead of his problems and that was what he needed right now. His thoughts were centered on his delicious chicken with almonds and rice cooked in salt, butter and a spoonful of brown sugar because details were important _goddammit._ Sam just rolled his eyes when Dean told him so.

Once dinner was ready, they sat at the kitchen table across from each other and Dean didn’t spare his brother a single look before stuffing his face with food. He hummed in contentment after the first bite. The food was delicious if he said so himself and Dean was feeling better and calmer than he had been in days.

Of course Sam, being the dear brother that he was, never let Dean dwell on those types of feelings for long. “You know, Cas was here.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“He came to invite us for the bonfire, which is in four days.”

“Uh, can’t, I have to work.”

“No one works during the bonfire day, Dean. It’s one of the good things about it.”

“Thanks for the illuminating news, I had no idea.” Dean faked a surprised widening of eyes.

Sam shook his head and continued eating. “You should go.”

“No, thanks.” Dean chewed quietly, paying more attention to his plate than to his brother who narrowed his eyes at him.

“You can’t avoid Cas for the rest of your life, you know?”

“Who says I’m avoiding?”

“Who says I’m blind?” Sam glared back at him.

Dean got up with a grunt and started washing the dishes. His back was turned to his brother, but he could feel Sam’s gaze drilling a hole into the back of his skull. “Seriously, Dean, what happened?”

“Damn it, Sam, nothing happened. I just don’t feel like going to a stupid angel parade, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Sam got up and marched for the exit. “Jess and I will be there if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.” Dean looked over his shoulder. “And thanks for the help,” he added, yelling. “Jerk!”

For the next two days his work at the forge was dull and boring, so when Bobby asked him and Charlie to go meet a customer outside the forge, Dean was more than happy to oblige. That is, until he found out the customer was an angel and wanted to meet on his side of the town. Dean suddenly felt ill, his throat hurt, his head too, it was probably a flu, an awful flu and he shouldn’t go, perhaps it would be best if Charlie went there alone.

He was rewarded with a snort from Charlie and a heavy roll of eyes from Bobby when he told them exactly that. Bobby all but threw him out the door, barking that the customer had asked for his best worker and that Dean was it.

Now that he was outside, breathing the cold morning’s air instead of the metallic confinements of the forge, he felt himself relaxing. He tried to ignore the anxious flutter as he crossed the bridge to the other side of town and got one step closer to the pair of black wings he had been avoiding for the past few days.

The angel’s side was exactly the same, save for the bare trees and the lack of flowers blooming. The green had given way to a wave of white, except for the tide of colors that filled the angel’s garden, protected from the winter’s crisp by angelic magic. Dean’s mouth abruptly went dry as the most beautiful thing about the snow was suddenly a few feet ahead of him. Cas looked astounding like this, hair made darker by the snowflakes surrounding him, with a world of frozen blues reflected in his eyes and his black wings silhouetted against the white, looking as intense as a clean night’s sky.

Dean gulped audibly and tried to look away, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the angel making his way to the garden.

“Oh, look, it’s Castiel,” Charlie said cheerfully.

“Wait, no,” Dean started, but Charlie was already following Cas inside the garden.

“Castiel, hey!”

Castiel turned around, smiling when the redhead wrapped her arms around him. “Hello, Charlie,” he replied, eyes going softer when he noticed Dean. “Dean, what are you doing here?”

“That’s actually my fault.” They all turned to see an angel swagger his way to the three of them. “I asked Bobby to send someone in from the forge. I’m Balthazar.”

“Hello.” Charlie shook his hand. “I’m Charlie, and this is–”

“Oh, I know,” Balthazar interrupted with a lopsided grin. “Hey, Dean. You’re even better looking than I assumed.”

“Balthazar!” Castiel snarled with bright red cheeks, looking everywhere but Dean.

Balthazar shrugged. “Just saying.”

Charlie took over the rest of the conversation, taking notes on the weapon the angel wanted them to make. Dean stayed close, but remained silent, too enraptured by Cas who kept stealing glances at him. It was overwhelming, being close to Cas again after all the revelations from the past couple of weeks.

“I’m glad to see you here.” Cas was smiling with his whole face and Dean felt his chest swelling at the sight.

“Likewise.” He swallowed thickly and contemplated the garden, reminding himself to keep his emotions in check when near someone who could hear his thoughts if he chose to. Dean had heard wonders about the angel’s garden throughout his whole life, but never actually had the chance to see it up close.

Dean started trailing the path of woodchips across the garden with Cas following close behind. A rainbow of flowers covered the ground all around them: mimosas, tulips, lilies, gladiolas and several others Dean couldn’t name; cherry trees bloomed in pink alongside violet blossoms of blue jacarandas and dark greens from the pine trees. There were several sitting areas, but Dean moved up the path until they reached the center where a wide pond stood majestic and filled the air with the soft splashes made by its waterfall.

Dean closed his eyes and breathed deeply; the breeze was rich with an earthy smell and the sweet scent of wildflowers, but there was something missing. He turned sharply to face Cas and frowned. “There are no wisteria trees.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

“I thought you liked them, but I don’t see any here.”

“Oh.” His face softened. “I do like them. They’re my favorite, actually.” Cas shifted closer and the sudden proximity made Dean’s heartbeat spike against his will. “But Michael doesn’t find them aesthetically pleasing. He says the vines are hard to control.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed up. “Control? The vines aren’t supposed to be controlled. He should let them grow and flourish instead of constantly trying to tame them.”

Cas tilted his head. “Are we still talking about the trees?”

Dean ignored Cas’ question in favor of gazing at the water. “Besides, who doesn’t like wisteria trees?” He folded his arms across his chest. “That’s like hating puppies.” Dean huffed and shook his head. “Well, there’s another reason not to like the guy.”

“Dean, let me explain,” Cas muttered, placing a hand between Dean’s shoulder blades. Not too far from them, Dean could hear Balthazar talking enthusiastically with Charlie about his new sword and what a great acquisition that would be to celebrate the New Year coming in a couple of days.

Dean forced himself to relax and crouched down to dip the tips of his fingers in the water. “This isn’t the time, Cas.”

“Then when can we talk? When can I see you? Will you be at the bonfire?”

“Yeah, not planning on going.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate, I think you would like it. The whole town comes together to celebrate the end of the year. It’s quite magnificent.” Cas fidgeted with his foot. “And I would like to see you there. Very much so.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Charlie shouted from the other side of the pond. “We’re done here.” She smiled, adding, “But you can stay if you want, Dean.”

Dean stood up. There was a dry leaf stuck on Cas’ feathers and Dean reached for it, carefully stroking Cas’ wing clean. “No, I’m ready to go.” There was a tremor in his voice, but Dean forced himself to say goodbye, fighting the urge to wrap Cas in his arms and kiss away the pain that was currently contorting the angel’s face.

 

 

** Present Day **

“So, Gabriel is on our side now, huh?” Sam bumped Dean’s shoulder, looking more joyful than Dean had seen him since his return. “See? Didn’t I tell you we could trust him?”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right, whatever.” Dean jumped over a log and clutched his black hood closer to his face. They had just sneaked past the city walls; ever since he had learned that Cas hadn’t betrayed him after all, Dean had been aching for the secret cocoon of wisteria trees he and Cas had once called theirs.

That morning Dean had woken up determined to go to the Vran forest and see what the place looked like now, or if it was still there at all. Had Cas visited it regularly? If he was getting married, he most likely had moved on with his life. Perhaps he had visited it at first, but then as his thoughts about Dean diminished, so had his visits to their hiding place. After three years, perhaps someone had found it and claimed it for their own; or it could have been destroyed during the war. All of these possibilities made Dean uneasy and he couldn’t rest until he was sure the place was still intact, perpetually waiting for him and Cas to come back.

Dean had planned on getting out of the city walls on his own and making this trip alone. Of course then his _pain in the ass_  of a brother had to butt in and ask him where he was going.

At first Dean had meant to lie, to feed his baby brother some bullshit and come alone – _It’s just a walk,_  was on the tip of his tongue, but he was tired of hiding, not just physically, but emotionally too. Dean had run away from what mattered the most to him for the last three years, wrapped in a lie that he told himself every day to keep him going – _I don’t love him anymore, Cas is in the past and I’m over him._ Now that Dean had let those feelings in again, he wanted to face it all and let it all out in the open. And Sammy deserved to be included in the deal.

So Dean told him. Dean told him everything about the wooden sanctuary with a floor of soft grass and a roof of cascading purple blossoms, where he had lost himself in loving the only one who had ever made him feel like flying.

So here they were, outside the walls and entering the limits of the forest, with about an hour left of walking – Dean was starting to regret not bringing Baby, but it would be difficult to sneak past the sentries guarding the town with big ass horses in tow.

Dean took in a deep breath: the cool morning air smelled of pine trees and fresh grass. It was a beautiful spring day, bright, with a clean blue sky and Dean held up his hand to shield his eyes from the sharp rays of sunlight.

He watched a trail of wild ginger-orange mushrooms as they made another turn, and made a mental note to collect some of these on their way back so they could have some for lunch – Dean would stick them into a pan and fry them in hot butter along with sliced garlic, then a bit of lemon juice on top. God, he was salivating just thinking about it.

“How much longer until we’re there?” Sam mumbled.

“If you’re gonna bitch all the way ‘til we get there, you shouldn’t have offered to come.”

“It was just a question.” Sam rearranged the strap of his leather bag on his shoulder and shivered when a breeze made the leaves rustle.

“Just a bit further,” Dean said. “And why did you bring that bag anyway?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“It’s just work stuff.” Sam reached for his leather water canteen and gulped harshly before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m going to the laboratory after this.”

“Working on a new invention?”

“Hmm,” Sam replied, not quite looking at Dean.

Okay, there was definitely something off with the bag. Sam’s awkwardness around it peaked Dean’s curiosity. Perhaps he was just tired. This whole thing hadn’t just taken a toll on Dean, sometimes he forgot how much Sam had gone through as well.

Dean couldn’t even imagine how these last three years had been for Sammy and how much trouble he had gone through just to save Dean. He had been away from work for weeks, travelling on his own through who knows how many dangers. And now that they were back, Sam spent most of his days locked in their library, or working in his laboratory late into the night. Besides, there was always a sense of dread creeping under their skin, one that told them that at any moment Dean would be found by the angels and sent back to war.

They rounded the last curve that led to the pink refuge and Dean could feel his own mouth curving up when he reached the last tree befo–

All the blood was drained from his body, his legs faltered and Dean had to lean on a thick trunk to keep himself from falling. “It’s gone!”

“What?”

“The place is gone,” Dean said, shaking uncontrollably.

“Are you sure this is the right location? It’s been three years. Everything is so similar around here.”

Dean took a shuddering breath. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, so, perhaps there’s a perfectly good explanation for this.”

“Yeah? Like what? Cas made sure this place was protected, if it’s not here, it can only mean–”

Dean stopped abruptly. The sound of the snap of a twig under his brown leather boot was magnified in the sudden silence closing in on them. Dean couldn’t hear a thing: no croaking from frogs, no chirping crickets, no birds, no squirrels running through the branches above their heads. Even the breeze was gone.

“Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“The forest. It’s dead quiet.”

The unnatural silence quickly collapsed under a wave of lacerating winds. Dean’s boots dragged across the dirt while he fought to keep himself upright and dodge the explosion of animals running out of hiding.

“What is going on?” Sam yelled over the cacophony of noises.

Dean barely managed to lurch out of the way of a white-tailed deer that quickly disappeared behind them. “Shit.”

Suddenly the winds stopped and just as Dean started to think this had all been just a freak display of nature, the logs on the ground around them swiftly levitated up in the air and stopped above their heads.

“Wha–” A new blast of air and sharp splinters of disintegrated wood shoved them to the ground as the colossal blocks of tree exploded into nothing. The force of the explosion pinned them down and flattened the trees in a circle around them, wood cracking and snapping as the thick roots fought to stay buried in the ground.

Dean exhaled shakily and a cloud of visible breath left his mouth. Dean shook his head and opened his mouth, about to point out that that shouldn’t be possible with this temperature, when a wave of frostbite blue erupted beneath their bodies, freezing both grass and trees in its wake.

It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, the tidal waves of wind pulling everything in the opposite direction of where they stood and creating an invisible barrier that kept them at the center of this glacial cage.

“Dean, look.” Sam pointed up. The once light blue sky was burning in flaming oranges and vivid reds, exploding in lightning before a pair of pure white wings came into view.

“Dean!” Sam shook him by the shoulder, but Dean was too awestruck to react. “Get up. You need to run, Dean. Michael is coming! _Run!_ ”


	12. Chapter 12

** Present day **

His legs buckled beneath him a second time as he managed to cut through the barrier of winds and get into the protection of the trees with Sammy on his heels. Dean kept running, not bothering to spare a glance over his shoulder. He knew the shit-storm that was about to hit them square in the face and he wasn’t about to waste time admiring the fucking view.

Shit, Dean didn’t know how Michael had found him. Perhaps during one of his reckless-and-not-so-sober moments. Dean had tried to be careful, but judging by the pissed off angel trying to smite their asses right now, his plans had gone belly up somewhere along the line. Now here they were, once again running for dear life in the middle of the freaking woods. _Back to square one_ , Dean thought.

An explosion of grace lit up the earth in front of him with flames of white and gold, preventing them from continuing forward. Dean turned around to see Michael hovering above the ground, not too far from where they were frozen in place.

The angel set the tip of one foot down on the ground, holding his impeccable posture with his wide-spread wings. Michael took his time to stretch his wings, the pure white feathers breaking at the edge in a shimmer of gold under the sun’s warm light before he neatly folded them behind him, finally landing on both feet.

“Hmm,” Michael sighed low in the back of his throat and looked up. The weather had changed into a sunny day again, only a breeze as a testimony of the storm they had just witnessed. “What lovely weather,” he said and darted his icy blue eyes to Dean. “So, we meet again.” He began to walk in their direction, his pale-golden cloak framing his shoulders and falling in waves behind him. A brooch secured it in place by his heart, its winged design of crystal and white gold matching the elegance of his clothes: wide-sleeved tunic and pants in shades of warm brown that emphasized his muscular build. His light blonde hair was tied back into a shoulder length ponytail. His perfect features hadn’t changed a bit in the last three years, a mix of Castiel’s serenity and Lucifer’s lethal composure. “But I’m afraid our meeting will be short-lived since I’m going to have to take you back to Micalzo.”

“You can try.” Dean grabbed his bow at the same time as Sam drew his sword.

Michael tilted his head with a condescending smile. “We both know I can easily take you down. Let’s not do anything foolish, shall we? You’re both fugitives, not to mention that faking my signature is against the law, so why don’t you give yourself up quietly so no one gets hurt?”

“Yeah you can keep talking out of your ass, but we both know this is about the fact that you get your jollies controlling everyone’s lives, Cas included.”

“Castiel is about to get married, I can’t let you ruin it for him. He has a good life now, the life he deserves.”

“Yeah, like he had three years ago? I bet my ass you had a hand in the engagement.”

“Enough.” Michael raised his hand, a new wave of winds whipping his hair between his shoulder blades. “Put down your weapons and come with me.”

“I can’t let you take my brother,” Dean spat out between his teeth.

“I have no quarrel with your brother. Even though he helped you escape.” Michael tucked away a wisp of sleek hair behind his ear. “But I understand what it’s like to want to save your brother from a tragic destiny. I respect that.” Michael glared at Dean. “Even when said brother is not worth the sacrifice.” He turned his attention to Sam. “You are free to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Dean. Please, there’s gotta be some kind of arrangement we can make.”

“There’s nothing you can possibly offer me.”

“You can’t force a human to join the war, that’s illegal,” Sam growled.

“Sam,” Dean said, turning to his brother. “You should go.”

“No way, Dean, I–” he trailed off with an audible swallow. “I already did that once.” He spun around, sword raised over his head and aimed at the angel.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered. The hard white and golden explosion shoved them both against a nearby tree and Dean was knocked out before he touched the ground.

When he woke up, his brother was kneeling in front of him; his sword had been ripped out of his hands, probably during the explosion of grace. Dean’s eyes fluttered, his vision came and went out of focus. He tried to moan in pain, but the ache flaring in his chest kept any sound from leaving his mouth.

His brother rose to his feet, a large book with a black cover and golden engraved words in his hands. There was a frown on the angel’s face when he touched the book lightly before addressing Sam again. Why did that book look so familiar? Dean never got the answer to his question because the darkness was engulfing him once more until he couldn’t keep his eyes opened any longer and lost consciousness.

 

 

** Four years ago **

It was New Year’s Eve and Dean was cleaning. Dean liked to clean, that was one of his favorite things to do when he needed to empty his mind; when he cleaned he didn’t have to think, he could just put his hands to work without having to worry about anything else. He cleaned the floor and wiped the walls, he washed the windows and when that was done he decided it was time to take care of his recurve bow that had been left neglected lately. Ever since Dean had stopped hunting wild animals with his father some years ago he rarely used his bow anymore, but he still liked to keep it with him most of the time.

Dean polished the upper limb again and sighed. The house was silent, too silent for his liking, especially because he knew where his brother and Jess were right now. He could hear in the distance the soft tones from the music being played at the bonfire.

He dropped the bow over his legs. Cas was there too, probably with Michael on his back trying to push a suitor into his lap. Dean snorted. What did Michael know about the best fit for Cas, anyway? Dean would bet his left foot that Michael didn’t know how Cas usually sneaked into the middle of the forest to spend some time alone, or the way his eyes glimmered when he watched the stars under the clean sky, or the fact that Cas was no longer soul-free.

Dean touched his chest. Cas had taken a soul again after so many years avoiding them – Dean’s soul. _Given freely._  And Dean was sure it had taken all Cas’ willpower not to consume everything. For someone who had once been a brutal soul taker that was one hell of an achievement. Yeah, it still had hurt like a bitch, but each time Dean thought about it, his soul exhaled soft puffs of contentment.

Dean remembered Ellen’s words. _Give him a chance._  Perhaps Dean had to give _himself_ a chance too.

Dean got up and put on one of his favorite outfits – brown leather pants that showed off his ass and athletic legs, and a wine-red long-sleeved shirt with a lace-up front, which clung to his chest and muscular back and made his eyes look greener. Dean opened the shirt a bit at the top to expose some of his chest, then fixed his hair and made his way outside.

Chevro was all too eager to run along the cobblestone streets and cross the bridge that led to the angel’s side. The night’s sky covered the whole city with inky black, the usually bright stars were now dissolved by the angel lights igniting the way up to the angel town square where smoldering flames stood almost twenty feet tall. The entire area flickered in red, yellow and orange, the colors seemed to melt into each other and dance to the rhythm of the bonfire’s blazing glow.

Dean hopped off Chevro just as two little girls ran past him, holding hands and laughing lightly on their way to the bonfire. There were dozens of tables arranged all around the center where the fire was slowly consuming the wooden logs. Each table had a white candle burning at the center along with a small bouquet of white carnations. The angel lights were distributed all around the area, contributing to the warm brightness playing on everyone’s eyes and gracing their silhouettes.

A couple of humans and angels sat by the fire, some curled around each other while others had their arms outstretched, seemingly trying to warm up.

Several figures danced happily to the melody being played. Dean had no idea what it was; mellow tones flowed from the stage at his right where an angel with long, dark hair and large, light brown eyes was playing the harp, her slim fingers plucking each individual string in complex musical chords effortlessly.

He left Chevro behind and made his way through the crowd, searching for the pair of black wings that were responsible for him being here tonight. He collided with several white wings and had already crossed the entire perimeter to the front of the stage when he saw him, right in front of the bonfire.

Cas’ black wings were draped behind him, his long sleeves from his deep blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows and he had his arms crossed as he silently watched the fire; the flames ignited his eyes into red and yellow, and flickered across the surface of his black leather pants and matching boots.

Another angel was talking to him, but Cas didn’t seem to be listening, looking more miserable than Dean had felt back home. The small furrow in his forehead increased when he yawned. Dean chuckled. _Oh, Cas._

As if listening, Cas looked up directly to where Dean stood watching him. Cas’ frown melted into a smile and he quickly excused himself and left the other angel behind.

They met halfway. People twirled around the dance floor and moved swiftly past the two of them. They probably needed to move soon if they didn’t want someone tripping on them, but Dean couldn’t care less about that, not with this breathtaking angel looking up at him like Dean carried the world.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean,” he replied, meeting Dean’s gaze with glimmering eyes and tiny dimples on his face.

“Never thought so many people would be here.”

Cas hummed contentedly.

“This looks great,” Dean continued, looking around.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Cas blurted out and Dean snapped his head back to him.

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugged. “I was bored at home so why not come take a look around.”

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

“Me too,” Dean replied sincerely. “You’re looking good, Cas.”

“You don’t look bad yourself.” Cas smiled.

“Hey,” came a high-pitched voice from behind Dean. “If you’re not dancing, leave the dance floor.”

Cas rubbed his neck, a soft pink reaching his cheeks when he looked at Dean again. “Do you want to dance?”

“I thought that was reserved for your possible suitors,” Dean joked.

Cas huffed. “My brother is unbearable sometimes. If I have to dance with one more of his stiff and annoyingly conceited candidates, I will lose my mind.”

Dean laughed and closed the space between them, readily folding his arms around Cas’ waist and pulling his body closer. Cas slipped his arms over Dean’s shoulders, eyes growing darker as they fitted against each other, cheeks grazing softly and legs sliding between one another.

“I’m sorry,” Cas murmured after a while. “I wanted to tell you everything, but whenever the time came, I just couldn’t say it.”

Dean shook his head. “I know what it’s like to have someone in your family bossing you around.”

They stayed quiet as the song ended and another began, soft notes from the harp lulling their silence into comfort. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

“I was,” Dean agreed, absently running his fingers through Cas’ feathers. “At first.”

“And now?”

“Now,” Dean considered what was the best way to describe what he was feeling, what had made him change his mind. He had always thought about himself as unworthy. Unworthy of his father’s approval, unworthy of the way his brother looked at him with admiration in his eyes. Unworthy of someone like Cas… But every fiber of Dean’s body, deep into the core of his soul, was screaming at him that he could be exactly what Cas wanted, if only he would make the leap. “Maybe I wanna give myself a chance.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Dean could hear the frown in Cas’ voice.

“I dreamt about you,” Dean said suddenly. “About your grace actually and how it shines, about the way my soul keeps reacting to you – I mean, that can’t be nothing right?”

Dean felt Cas touching the skin on his neck, slim fingers first, then a warm, full palm against his skin.

“And that kiss. The way you felt in my arms, Cas. I can’t let go of that. I don’t want to.” Dean felt Cas’ breath hitching and tickling at his skin as they moved at a leisurely pace along the dance floor. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, if that’s really what you wanna do, getting engaged to some random angel to fulfill your duty, I’ll stand by you. But if you need a reason not to do it, this is me giving you one.”

Dean pulled back to look the angel in the eye, his mouth slightly gaping before the next words came out. “I like you, Cas. I like you _a lot._  And if you think there’s a small chance of this thing between us working, go tell your brother to screw himself. It’s not fair to put the fate of two kingdoms on your shoulders. No one should have to carry that weight.” Dean sighed, letting their foreheads rest together, admiring the small frown between Cas’ eyebrows and the way his eyelids closed as an internal battle happened right in front of Dean.

“Take the plunge with me, Cas,” Dean murmured. Cas’ fingers had found their way to the nape of his neck and were lazily playing with the short strands of hair at the base. Dean nudged Cas’ nose with his. “Are you going to say something or should I stay here and look pretty while you groom my hair?” Dean said with a smile.

“You always look pretty, so that isn’t much of an effort on your part.”

“All right, smart ass, I’m gon–”

“Ahem.”

They turned around quickly. Meeting Dean’s view was a rather delighted Gabriel, a smirk playing at his lips and a wink filling his eye when Dean looked at him. Inias stood at his side; a muscle twitched under his eye and he sent an austere look at Castiel. “Michael is looking for you, he wants a report on how things are going tonight. And staying here dancing with this human isn’t the most strategic move, if I may say so myself.”

“You may not say so, Inias.” There was a sharp undertone to Castiel’s voice and Dean didn’t need to look at him to know he was wearing his _I’ll kick your ass_  expression. “I would appreciate if you stayed out of this.”

Inias spun on his heels and left. Castiel glanced at Dean, his expression softening the moment their eyes met. “Unfortunately I need to go. Can we continue this conversation later?”

“Uh, sure.” Dean’s shoulders sagged, but he sent Castiel a smile. The angel lingered for a moment before turning away and Dean almost reached for him, but quickly restrained himself when he heard Gabriel snorting.

“Behave yourself,” Cas said while walking past his brother.

“Don’t I always?” Gabe replied over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off of Dean.

Dean’s gaze was drawn after Castiel until he disappeared between the crowd. He buried his hands in his pockets to keep his fingers from twitching with the absence of the angel’s body to hold.

“So, Dean-o.”

Dean rolled his eyes internally and finally looked at Gabe. “Yeah?”

“Something you would like to tell me?” There was that cocky smirk again and Dean felt the slight urge to punch it off Gabe’s face.

“Well,” Dean pretended to think about it. “Nope.” He started to leave, but the angel followed him.

“Now I understand why my brother is all smiley lately.”

Dean stopped in his tracks, unable to hide a smile of his own. “He is?”

“So it’s true?”

Dean huffed and started walking again, where the hell was the alcohol when he needed it? “Goodbye, Gabe.” He moved quickly and only stopped when he found the drinking table, noticing that Gabe apparently had learned to take a hint and wasn’t chasing him anymore. Dean swayed to the music, finally with a drink in his hands, and tried to take his mind off of negative thoughts because at least Cas had seemed interested in continuing their conversation later. That was good. _Right?_ He took another sip and went to find his brother.

Dean found Sam at one of the tables with Jess. Jo was by their side as well as Charlie. Dean spent the rest of the night by his brother who had thrown him a _look-who-has-decided-to-show-up_  look, but hadn’t made any further attempts to poke fun at Dean.

He didn’t see Cas for the rest of the night and that fact was itching at Dean’s skin to the point where he couldn’t stay still. The bonfire was still blazing at the center and Dean circled it, the harp’s melody still swaying the rhythm of everyone’s feet on the dance floor where both humans and angels danced side by side cheerfully. Dean smiled at the rare sight, as if the invisible division usually separating angels and humans didn’t exist at all. Dean wasn’t opposed to the idea of angels and humans actually getting along, as equals, instead of this messed up partnership thing that had been going on ever since the kingdoms had been made.

The crowd shifted and Cas was suddenly in the middle of it, his black wings moving behind him, with an angel on his arms smiling and dancing with him. Her long strands of red hair fell over her white wings as they spun around - she was beautiful, Dean had to give her that – angular face, turned-up nose and wide, green eyes. If she was one of Cas’ suitors, at least he couldn’t complain about her appearance.

A pang of jealousy started clawing its way into the back of Dean’s mind as he heard them laughing again. There was an ease in the way they moved around each other, a natural fit. Dean gulped and looked away.

“So, you must be Dean.” The sudden velvet voice a hair’s breadth away from his back made him jump and whirl around to find an angel with long, blonde hair watching him. He was wearing a white three-quarter sleeve shirt under a tight black leather waistcoat fastened by toggles, and matching pants – a perfect complement to the tight-lipped smile and stern expression that made him look intimidating and charming at the same time. “Are you having a good time?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve had worse.” He paused; the angel’s blue eyes were practically burning holes on his face and he raised his chin in defiance. “And you’re Michael, Cas’ prick of a brother, am I right?”

Michael’s smile didn’t sway. “What a polite specimen you are.” He moved around Dean to watch his brother dancing with the redhead. “No wonder Cas has been trying to hide the fact that he has been passing time with you.”

“Yeah, well I’m not the one trying to sell him out to save my own skin.”

Michael spun his head to him again, his eyes flaring with gold for a split second. “Do you think I’m doing this just for the sake of the kingdom?” He jerked his head in Cas’ direction. “Look at him. Can’t you see where he truly belongs? Do you think he will ever be completely happy with you?”

The redhead was cradling Cas’ face between her small hands. They were smiling so bright Dean had to close his eyes from the powerful wave of sadness that hit him.

“Don’t you think he deserves happiness with someone who understands what it’s like to be one of us? Who shares the same experiences and difficulties. Who can be a solid companion throughout his life. His true equal, a constant.”

_Constant._ There was that word again and it stung just as much as when Cas had said it. Michael wasn’t wrong, not really. Cas’ kin had been his constant all his life. Cas had more than enough suitors ready to make him happy, and as much as Dean wanted to be the one to give him everything, perhaps it had been selfish of him to ask someone like Cas to be bound to the earth with him. Cas deserved someone who could trace the skies with him, not someone afraid of flying.

He didn’t reply to Michael, or to Sam’s questioning look when Dean dashed past him on his way to Chevro. This had clearly been a mistake. Watching Cas mingling with his own kind with such ease, like he belonged; he seemed so relaxed, so happy, dancing with that redhead – Dean wanted all of that for him.

The ride passed in a blur, with Chevro more than willing to lead the way home while Dean watched the buildings moving past him in a daze. After quickly taking care of his baby, he went inside; the house was empty and dark and Dean wanted to leave immediately, but where could he go at this hour? The Roadhouse was closed because of the bonfire, and most of the other places hadn’t even opened today because of the festivities.

Dean stripped off his clothes with a sigh of relief, discarding them on the floor of his bedroom before filling his bathtub with hot water and jumping in. It hurt at first, the scalding water against his muscles making them tense for a moment before they got used to the burning heat.

Dean stared at the ceiling, noticing his vision gradually getting blurred. He splashed some water on his face and blamed it on the steam slowly filling the air. Dean sat up and rubbed the tears from his eyes before grabbing the soap and dragging it across his rough skin, slowly washing some of the ache away.

The bedroom’s air was cold against his body when he got out and Dean grimaced, grabbing the first clean clothes he got his hands on, some loose black pants and a green shirt he harshly pulled over his head on the way downstairs.

He was about to attack the pecan pie his mother had made when a knock interrupted his plans. Dean mumbled a row of curses and got to the door.

What he found on the other side of the door made him forget his growling stomach. “Cas? What are you doing here?”

“You left,” Cas stated, barging in.

“Yeah, people do that, better get used to it, Cas.” Dean couldn’t help but spit out some of his frustration.

“What happened? I thought you wanted to talk.” Cas locked eyes with him and Dean’s sarcastic mood dissipated in a rush.

“I did, but you disappeared the entire night. And then I saw you with that redhead.”

“Redhead?” Cas frowned.

“Yeah, you two seemed like you were getting along pretty well. Kudos to your brother because apparently he doesn’t have such bad taste after all.”

“My brother? You mean Michael?”

Dean shook his head and rubbed his cheek. “Listen, I’m just…”

“What did Michael tell you?”

“I just need some time to digest it, okay? But I’ll stand by you like I said, I’ll stand by your choice. If she makes you happy then I’ll just–”

“Dean…” Cas shuffled closer, but Dean stepped back.

“You deserve that, I want that for you, I truly do. Your safety, right? Your constant.”

“Dean Winchester!” Cas glowered at him. “Can you stop talking for a moment? That redhead is Anna, my _sister._ ”

“Your–”

“And Michael needs to stop trying to control my life, which was exactly what I told him in the long conversation we had tonight. And that’s why I disappeared after our dance. I sought out my brother and told him I won’t marry any of his choices. I told him, as you so nicely put it, to go screw himself.” A glimpse of a smile tugged tenderly at Cas’ lips and he moved closer again. “You two should stop telling me what’s best for me,” he said, eyes flickering with warmth and crinkling at the corners, his soft hand tugging at Dean’s and threading their fingers together. “I’m done with safety, I’m done with constant, I don’t want that, Dean, I want…” Dean watched Cas’ fingertips drawing invisible lines up his arm, the soft feather-like touch making his steady heartbeat go haywire.

“What?” Dean’s voice was thick and breaking, but he forced it out, prompting Cas to continue. “What do you want?”

“You.” Cas’ palm pieced together with Dean’s shoulder, a perfect fit with the red handprint that had never really stopped craving for its maker. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed, a wave of desire flooding through his body. “I want you, Dean,” Cas repeated in a whisper. “I want all your unpredictable thoughts and the scary feelings you give me, and more nights watching meteor showers with you. I want your beautiful soul and–”

The rest of the sentence was muffled by Dean’s lips as he pressed their mouths together, hands on both sides of Cas’ face, tugging at his hair in a possessive grip and biting his bottom lip when the angel responded with a shaky moan. Dean pulled Cas by the waist, gracelessly maneuvering them into the living room.

“Dean,” Cas rasped and Dean didn’t know if he should focus on the full, warm lips that were currently trying to take his breath away or on the hands that had found their way under his clothes, clawing at his sides and stealing a desperate whine out of him. Dean’s knees collided with the sofa and he sank onto it, dragging Cas by the collar along with him.

Their legs tangled atop the cushions and Dean pulled him in for another kiss, sucking eagerly at Cas’ pretty pink lips, using all the restraint he could muster because if he could have his way, Cas’ clothes would be ripped off by now, and the angel’s cock would be hard and thick, moving relentlessly inside him.

So instead he soothed a hand through Cas’ hair and pressed his lips to the angel’s forehead, trying to keep his want in check. Cas’ hips bucked down roughly and Dean moved down to lick lazily at his mouth, its taste rich with need and urgency overflowing Dean’s senses.

“Dean,” Cas gasped and Dean could come from the sound of it alone. He ground his hips down again and Dean suppressed a moan, not taking his eyes off the angel above him. “This feels amazing.”

“Yeah?” Dean nibbled at Cas’ full bottom lip gently. He grabbed Cas’ ass and arched his back, rocking their hips together and dragging a throaty whimper from Cas. “It can get much better.”

They ground their crotches together in a frantic rhythm that was quickly driving Dean crazy. Breathy sounds filled the otherwise silent room and Dean pressed up harder, desperately seeking relief through friction when the tightness around his cock became too much to handle.

“Let me show you.” Dean wasn’t ashamed of the evident pleading in his voice.

He felt Cas’ forehead moving against his when the angel nodded and tightened his hold around Dean’s shoulders. Dean trailed along his back, tracing the firm muscles up to his sharp rib cage, urging the angel to strip down his shirt. “Take it off,” Dean purred and Cas complied, leaving enough space for Dean to do the same.

The first hard pull of muscles sliding against his was almost enough to make him come undone and Dean choked out the angel’s name, scratching a trail from his hip along the prominent bones of his spine to lace his fingers in Cas’ hair. He hooked his other hand on the band of Cas’ pants and shoved them down to his thighs.

“Dean,” Cas mewled against him, sharp hip jerks pinning them together until Dean had managed to pull down both their pants and there were no more clothes keeping them apart. The feeling of their cocks rubbing together for the first time was pure bliss and Dean couldn’t stop the thrust that followed. Cas went very still, his muscles trembling frantically as he struggled for control, and Dean growled low in his throat at the sudden lack of friction.

“Cas?” Dean studied Cas for some sign of distress and tried to keep his hips from jerking again.

Cas’s eyes fluttered open and Dean’s heart skipped a beat at how beautifully broken he looked – swollen lips slightly parted in a muted moan, his grace almost bursting from underneath the surface and coloring his eyes in a mix of silver and blue as he slowly came apart, gasping loud and hoarse against Dean’s cheek, clutching at Dean’s shoulders like his life depended on it, practically over the edge with nothing but want to send him off.

They stayed like that for a moment, just lingering there, trying to catch their breath while holding each other’s gaze.

Cas leaned down and kissed Dean, slow and languid, none of the desperation and pining from before: it was raw and vulnerable, with such tenderness that Dean was pretty sure he would burn up from the inside out.

Cas cradled Dean’s face between his hands. “I need you, Dean.” Dean felt his will wavering and tentatively rocked upwards, the slow and steady pace taking every bit of control he still had in him. Cas’ breath hitched, his hands holding Dean’s head in place as he met Dean’s thrusts and growled into his skin. “I need you so much.”

Dean took both cocks in hand and stroked them together, using the precome to easily glide his palm up and down their lengths. Cas’ breath grew labored as Dean ran the pad of his thumb over their heads and added more pressure to his strokes. Cas panted and slammed furiously into the warmth of Dean’s fingers, cocks rubbing together hard and heavy as they found their own rhythm – sharp, messy and so damn perfect.

Cas stared down at him, moving in sync with Dean, eyes locked with his, slowly consuming his determination to hold on a little longer. Dean closed his eyes shut, not bothering to bite back a whimper, low and desperate. Dean had always been good at holding back, at being in charge of his own emotions, but he had never felt like this before, with such raw desperation for more that it threatened to tear him apart with the sheer fervor of it.

Cas’ breath was hot and heavy against Dean’s mouth, too far gone to keep kissing, mouths hovering over each other, sharing the volatile air escaping their lips. Dean rolled his hand up and twisted on the way down, then up and down again in firm pulls.

“Open your eyes, Dean,” Cas said, with a long, deliberate snap of hips, his fingers digging into Dean’s cheeks and neck as Dean continued to stroke them. “Please, I want to see you.”

Dean obliged, lust blown pupils and bright blues with specks of silver meeting him on the other side. “You’re perfect, Dean.” Dean sped up his heated strokes, a breathless sob finding its way out through his shaking lips as Dean worked deliriously for the release they both sought. “Every piece of you.”

Cas’ wings clenched in abortive spasms and he plunged forward, arching over Dean’s shoulder as he came all over Dean’s hand. “Dean,” he breathed into his skin in the most beautiful fucked-out tone Dean had ever heard.

Dean kissed his temple. “That’s it, baby.” His voice cracked while he stroked through the last waves of the aftershock until Cas was spent and pliant above him.

Dean could feel his own pleasure burning low between his thighs and racing after his own climax. He released Cas’ cock and wrapped his sticky fingers around his own. Only a few more pumps and Dean was coming hard between their bodies, toes curling painfully as he threw his head backwards, choking out the angel’s name before following him over the edge with a wrecked sob.

When he came back down, Cas was already half-asleep. Dean removed his hand from between their bodies and wiped it on his shirt on the floor. “We should get out of here.” He shook Cas softly. “Hey, sleepy head, are you listening?”

“Hmm,” Cas mumbled against his neck. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Cas. We, on the other hand, need to get out of here before my brother and Jess show up and have the surprise of their lives.” Dean snorted imagining the look on his brother’s face getting home to find the two of them and their half-naked asses on his couch.

Cas snapped his wings once and pulled them to their feet before flying them both up the stairs, landing them gracefully on Dean’s bed. The bedroom door magically shut behind them.

“Fuck, Cas. A little warning maybe?”

“Can we sleep now?” he said, voice muffled by Dean’s neck.

Dean chuckled. “Whatever you want, angel.”

Outside, the fireworks announcing the stroke of midnight thundered and crackled in the sky and drew colors on their skin. Dean smiled, strings of happiness tugging at his heart. “Happy New Year,” he murmured to the sleepy angel currently snoring softly above him. They fell asleep like that, Cas cradled on his chest, wings pliant and sprawled around both of them, and Dean’s lips pressed to his forehead.


	13. Chapter 13

** Three years ago **

Dean woke up alone but warm despite the frosty breeze that blew relentlessly at the window. He blinked his eyes at the first morning of the New Year, a soft smile tugging at his lips when he remembered how amazingly last year had ended. Speaking of which, where the hell was Cas? The fireplace was crackling with life, casting a warm glow to the room and filling it with popping and crackling sounds. There was something else capturing his attention too, a delicious smell coming from downstairs, and Dean hoped Cas was part of the reason for the fragrance making his mouth water.

Dean stretched his limbs, still stiff from spending a whole night with a very cuddly angel. Dean would never admit it out loud, but cuddling with Cas had proved to be one of his favorite things in the world. He slid out from under the sheets and bent over, picking up his pants still lying on the floor from the night before. He quickly put them on and went downstairs, not bothering to put on shoes.

Once at the bottom of the stairs Dean slowed his pace, careful not to make a sound as he came around the corner, only to stop in his tracks, breath stuck in his throat. He just stood there, admiring the vision of this tousled, shirtless angel walking around his kitchen like he was made for nothing more than this, a pair of Dean’s pants hanging low on his hips and showing off the swell of his ass. A flare of want rumbled low in Dean’s chest and he stepped forward.

When Cas noticed him by the kitchen’s entrance his face changed in surprise, then his whole body relaxed at once and a soft smile graced his lips. “Good morning, Dean. I hope you like scrambled eggs,” Cas turned around to face Dean completely, a mess of a pan in his hands that Dean supposed were the so-called scrambled eggs. “I’ve added cheddar cheese, parsley and onions.” Cas crossed the kitchen, lingering in front of Dean. “I also made toast.”

God, Cas looked perfect half naked in the middle of his kitchen and cooking for Dean. Dean gulped thickly and gently brushed away the strands of hair that clung to Cas’ temple.

“There’s fruit too, but I know you’re not fond of it.” He smiled bashfully and closed the last remaining inches between them to plant a small peck on Dean’s lips. “So I’m deducing that will be for me.” Cas slowly drew away, looking unsure now. Probably because Dean was acting like a silly little girl looking at her crush.

Dean reached for Cas, thumb caressing the angel to feel the mixture of delicate and rough skin along the curve of his cheekbone. He hooked his fingers on the waistband of Cas’ pants – _his pants,_  Dean reminded himself with an impish smile – and pulled him nearer, closing his lips over Cas’ pillowy ones.

Castiel leaned into his embrace and kissed him back, slow and tender, fingers raking through Dean’s hair and heart racing against his. And Dean watched it all with eyes opened because he simply _couldn’t_ miss this: Cas’ half-lidded eyes with webs playing in the corners as he smiled against Dean’s lips, sucking gently at them; his wings fluttering softly and nose nuzzling the side of Dean’s face as Cas tilted his head and exhaled soft, shuddering moans.

Dean felt his heart swelling and his lips curling into a smile of his own because he never knew that being in love with someone could be this perfect.

When Cas pulled away to catch his breath with flushed cheeks, fingers brushing Dean’s chin and lovingly gazing up at him, those three little words were suddenly ready at the tip of Dean’s tongue, he just had to voice them.

“Cas, I…” he trailed off, unsure if he should let go of them. What if this was too soon? Even with how strongly Dean felt about it. What if Cas wasn’t ready for that yet?

“What?” Cas beamed at him.

Dean hesitated for a moment, then huffed, shaking his head. “Nothing.” He kissed Cas’ nose and the angel scrunched his face, but couldn’t repress the cheerful laugh that followed. “We should dig in before the food gets cold,” Dean said, then added playfully, “Unless you wanna skip breakfast and go straight to dessert back upstairs.”

Cas rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink as he spun back and started serving. Dean sat at the table and sipped on his orange juice, admiring the way Cas easily moved around the kitchen before sitting down in front of Dean. “Where are Sam and Jess?” Dean asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“They left some hours ago. I waited until they were gone to leave the bedroom.”

“The walk of shame.” Dean snorted. “Now that would have been awkward.” He cut a piece of his eggs before looking up at Cas again. “Hold on a second, ‘hours ago’? What time is it?”

“It’s almost lunch time.” Cas propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm, leisurely watching Dean eat. “You overslept.”

“Well shit, I usually can’t sleep that much.” Dean wriggled his eyebrows at him. “Guess you wore me down, huh, angel?”

Castiel huffed. “Too bad I didn’t wear down your snoring, _human_.”

“Wha–” Dean put a hand on his chest as if offended and bumped Cas’ leg with his foot. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do.” Cas kicked his leg in return.

“I don’t.” Dean twisted his ankle around Cas’, then pulled away.

“You do,” Cas cooed and continued to nudge Dean’s legs.

Dean couldn’t believe they were playing footsie under the table like children, but Cas was laughing so full and carefree that Dean couldn’t stop. He loved seeing Cas like this: all goofy-looking and tender; the throaty little sounds expanding through his body and illuminating his whole face, making his dark feathers ripple and twist in sync with the way his shoulders shook.

Dean’s heart gave a warm beat in his chest at the sight and he wanted to have more of this in the future, to watch Cas through his cracks and learn everything there was to know about the angel, no matter how long it took. The little sappy voice inside Dean’s head provided him with _the rest of his life._

When Cas’ fingers curled around his hand, Dean realized his face ached from smiling so big. “Are you free this morning?” Cas asked and threaded their fingers together, stopping the playful fight but leaving his legs where they were tangled around Dean’s.

“Yup,” Dean said, lacing and unlacing their hands together, studying Cas’ slim fingers and taking in the feeling of them between his own, the way they fitted like a puzzle, like they were meant to be. _Maybe they are,_  that little voice provided again. “Why? Planning something?” He leaned forward. “Something kinky?”

Cas leaned on his elbows too, closing the space between them to murmur, “I want to go to our place,” before kissing Dean.

“Why?” Dean rasped against his lips and kissed him back.

“You will see,” Cas replied with a smirk, biting Dean’s bottom lip before he leaned back on his chair to resume eating, leaving Dean stranded with a growing bulge in his pants. _The little tease._  “Now eat, Dean.”

Dean didn’t need to be asked twice; with Cas’ hand held in his, kissing him slowly between bites, Dean ate the best goddam breakfast he had had in a long time.

 

** Present day **

Dean was a man on a mission – well, several actually, one of which involved getting back a certain angel with dark wings with the help of his crazy brother. The other one, and the cause of his current situation, required cornering Sammy and trying to make him crack under pressure. Said pressure called for backup in the form of a little rebel with red hair.

“Okay, Char, remember what we talked about,” Dean said, entering the Roadhouse with Charlie following close behind. “We don’t stop until he collapses. And, hey.” He turned around and pointed at her, the finger in front of her face making her briefly go cross-eyed. “Don’t you dare succumb to his pleading, you hear me?”

“Gotcha.” She winked and pumped a fist.

“Sam will use his puppy eyes for that so avoid eye contact if needed.”

“I can handle this, man.” Charlie waved her hands, urging him to start walking again. “Get on with it, people are starting to give us the stink eye.”

Dean tried to ignore the looks as they made their way to his brother on the opposite side of the tavern, who raised his hand in greeting when they came closer. One week had passed since their encounter with Michael and, according to Sam, the angel had agreed to let Dean stay in the city as a free man – no more hiding, no more running, no more looking over his shoulder. Dean should be over the moon with this news. But still, all this exposure, the stares he got everywhere he went, made him uneasy. Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful was about to happen, that something was lurking in the shadows just waiting for him to let his guard down.

And he still didn’t understand how his brother had convinced Michael to let him stay. Dean had passed out and when he had recovered he was alone with Sam again, no trace of the angel and the gold and white grace that had turned the calm weather into the most brutal storm Dean had ever seen. He couldn’t remember much after he had been thrown into a tree, but his brother’s story was sketchy at best.

Sam had purposely evaded his questions with a simple, _What does it matter anyway? The important thing is that now you can go back to your normal life._  And yeah, that would be awesome actually, if there wasn’t a voice in the back of his head telling him that there was something wrong about this. The image of a black book he couldn’t quite place nagged at his brain.

“So, Sam,” Charlie started off after they were all settled with fresh mugs of ale between their hands. “Awful thing that happened to you the other day. Heard Michael was a pain in the ass.”

“Hmm hmm,” Sam nodded with his mouth full of ale.

“How did he find out about Dean though? Do we have any idea who spilled the beans?”

“I bet it was Victor. He saw Dean when he first got here. He didn’t seem to suspect a thing at the time, but I bet he recognized him.”

“I thought you had fooled him.”

“Yeah,” Dean took a drag from his drink. “Bet he faked it all and recognized me from the get go. He must have gone straight to one of Michael’s minions.”

Sam hummed, scratching his neck, and didn’t elaborate.

Charlie exchanged a quick look with Dean and he urged her to keep going using only his eyes – he hoped the feeble twitch of his upper eyelid was enough to get the message through. “It just doesn’t seem like Michael though, ya know?” she continued. “To just give up like that after going through so much trouble to keep Dean away from here.”

Sam pursed his lips, the muscles in his face tightened as he looked between Dean and Charlie. Dean cleared his throat and studied the _suddenly so interesting_  drink in his hands.

“Don’t you think, Sam? I mean, what is up with that?”

Sam narrowed his eyes to crinkled slits. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Dean put you up to this?”

“What?” they both said in sync.

“No, don’t be silly, Sam.” Charlie laughed nervously. “Can’t a girl be curious?”

Sam watched them silently, then huffed dramatically. “Like I said to Dean, I explained to Michael the consequences of repeating what he did three years ago – Dean’s family and friends would let the whole town know that he was transgressing the law and the commandments.” Sam shrugged. “Besides, I told him Dean wasn’t a threat since Cas has moved on and is getting married.”

Dean flinched. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude.”

“You know I don’t believe that, Dean.” Sam drummed his fingers on the table. “But I needed to convince him.”

“What about the black book?” Charlie squeaked, her voice echoing above the rest of the crowd as she slammed her hands on the table. She looked around, aware of the heads turning their way and sank into her seat, hiding behind her long hair. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Black book?” Sam seemed surprised; Dean hadn’t told him about his confused memories of the book. “What?” He turned to Dean in exasperation. “Dean, what is going on?”

Dean shoved his knee against Charlie’s leg. She threw him an apologetic smile and looked down at her hands. His brother was still watching him so Dean might as well put it all out in the open. “After Michael knocked me out, I remember seeing you two talking.”

“Yeah, Dean, I told you–”

“And there was a book in your hands. You were showing it to Michael.”

Sam snorted, staring hard at his half emptied mug while turning it around between his fingers. “That’s-” He swallowed audibly. “That’s insane, Dean,” he said, taking a mouthful of ale.

“Right,” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I mean, you got hit pretty badly, you were probably just seeing things. Have you thought about that?”

Dean squinted at him.

Sam squirmed in his chair and cleared his throat. “Anyway, how about you worry about more important stuff?” Sam looked up. “Cas, for example.”

Charlie perked up at this, her head swiftly moving between the two brothers. “What about Castiel?”

Dean gave him his best _don’t-you-dare-you-fucker_  look, but Sam only smiled triumphantly and leaned towards Charlie. “So, you see, Dean talked with Gabriel.”

“He talked with Gabe?” Charlie had her mouth hanging open like a fish.

“Yes and he convinced him to help him win over Cas before he gets married.”

“Seriously, dude, that’s so romantic.” She squeezed her hands together above her heart with a wide smile, her eyes never leaving Sam’s thrilled expression, completely ignoring Dean’s grunts.

Dean dragged his hands across his face. “Kill me now,” his voice came out muffled behind his fingers.

“Yes,” Sam replied, just as excited as Charlie. “And now they’re gonna come up with some crazy plan to stop the wedding.”

“I’m right here, you know? Can you stop talking like I’m not sitting right next to you?”

Charlie clearly was too far gone to hear him. “That’s so exciting!” She turned to Dean and elbowed him in the ribs, wriggling her eyebrows. “I mean, you could use some cloud seeding to blow off some steam.”

“Cloud seeding?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, you know? Cloud seeding, do the do, get it on, sex?”

“The hell?” Dean was about to go on a homicidal rampage, starting with the pesky little redhead sitting next to him.

Sam choked on his drink. “Ew, Charlie, that’s a mental image I didn’t need.”

“Can we get back to–” Dean tried to change the subject.

“Don’t tell me that’s not on the menu.” She shrugged. “I was just stating the obvio–”

Dean put his hand over her mouth then pointed at Sam. “You, not another word.” He looked back at Charlie. “And you, I thought you were on my side.”

Charlie pulled his hand away. “I am, Dean.”

“Then why don’t you stick to the plan?”

“Oh, so you did put her up to this, after all?” Sam said, shaking his head.

“N-no, I mean,” Dean stuttered.

“Just worry about Cas, okay?” Sam said, absently twisting the wedding ring on his finger. “Go meet Gabriel, you don’t have much time left.”

Dean sighed. His first mission had been a disaster. Charlie, as it turned out, was even worse than him at making Sam crack. “I will. This afternoon actually.”

Sam got up. “Good, let me know how it went. My break is over, I need to go back to the lab.” He turned to leave. “It’s on you today, right?”

“Like I had a choice,” Dean yelled over the noise around them. “Asshole!”

 

 

One of the perks of his new life as a free man was being back at work. Gosh, Dean had missed the little things, the small details of his life he always took for granted; they had been a sore reminder of what he had lost when he was taken to the front lines.

Now Dean found himself closing his eyes on several occasions, stopping whatever he was doing to take in the precious little moments that were no longer just memories. He could touch them now, hear, smell them – the clink of metal, the hiss of steam and crackle of the flames on the forge, their heavy boots against the stone floor, the tang of metal and sweat on their skins.

Bobby kept sending him sympathetic looks, like he understood what Dean was going through, but how could he? How could anyone, really? So Dean ignored everyone’s stares and stopped whenever he felt he had to take a break from the overflow of normalcy he wasn’t used to yet.

When his day’s work was done he went to Gabriel’s house as the angel had asked. When Dean knocked on the door his heartbeat was instantly set in turmoil; they were supposed to come up with a plan today, and from what Dean knew about Gabriel, whatever he had in mind surely involved something crazy he most likely wasn’t going to enjoy. Dean bounced on his toes while he waited for what felt like hours for Gabe to open the door.

“Hello, _Shackles_ , how’s life as a free man?” Gabriel grinned.

“Peachy,” Dean replied, coming in to join the angel in the living room.

“Do you want anything? Ale, tea?”

Dean’s stomach growled. “No, thanks.” He paced back and forth in front of the couch before deciding to sit down. Gabriel was looking at him funny and Dean noticed his legs were shaking; he looked away and willed them to freeze. “So…”

Gabriel smacked his lips obnoxiously loud and clapped his hands together. “Right! Save-a-horse-ride-an-angel plan.” Gabe winked. “Let’s start.”

“That–” Dean scrunched his face. “That doesn’t make any sense, dude.”

“Exactly. No one will suspect what we’re doing if we happen to need to mention this in public.” He waved a dismissive hand at Dean. “I know, it’s genius, don’t need to mention it.”

“I ain’t saying that in front of anyone ever, dude.”

Gabriel snorted. “Give it time.” He leaned back on his golden armchair. The whole living room was a mix of green and golden furniture that made Dean nauseous and he wondered where was Kali when Gabriel was buying all of this. “So, where do you want to start?”

Dean thought about it for a moment, worrying his bottom lip, a question on the tip of his tongue: _What happened to our place in the forest?_  But he feared that, whatever the answer was, it would bring him more heartache than the current state of ignorance he was in. So instead of giving words to it, Dean opted for something simpler. “You lied to me… right?”

Gabriel looked at him in surprise.

“When you told me Cas was happy. He’s not, right? I mean, if he really is happy, if he’s–” His voice almost failed him and he cleared his throat, avoiding the other angel’s eyes. “If he’s in love, I don’t wanna ruin it for him.”

Dean could see through his peripheral vision Gabriel shaking his head with a fond smile on his face. “Oh, he’s in love all right.”

Dean released a shaky breath, suddenly too close to actually puking, and pressed his fingers to his eyes in hopes that the angel sitting in front of him would miss the raw wave of emotions making him dizzy.

“With you, you moron.” Gabe snorted and leaned forward. “Seriously, you think I would be doing this if I didn’t know my brother is as miserable as you are?” He placed down his glass of whiskey on the side table next to his armchair. “This marriage was all arranged by Michael. You know he has been trying to marry off Cas all these years. He wasn’t able to do it three years ago because of you, but now he finally convinced Castiel to do it. But my brother still loves you. Trust me, there’s still a cheesy heart inside that stubborn chest that keeps screaming ‘Dean! Dean!’” Gabriel pitched his voice four octaves higher to imitate said heart. “Cas just learned to force it down over the years.”

Dean huffed and studied his hands, threading his fingers together. He missed having Cas’ fingers between his own – another small memory that had made his days almost impossible to bear when he had been away from home.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at Gabriel. There was another question he desperately needed answered. Something he had asked himself every single day he had marched into battle, and that had kept him up night after night in his makeshift beds. Something he had buried beneath layers of ache and sorrow, behind a mask of numbness Dean had learned to recognize as himself throughout the years without Cas. “If he loves me, why didn’t he go after me?”

Gabriel shook his head, a hint of sadness in his expression. “He couldn’t, at first, he was in a coma.”

An icy wave of shivers ran down Dean’s spine. “W-what?” he forced out through his tense jaw.

“Castiel was attacked that night he was supposed to meet you. That’s why he didn’t show up and you never got to see each other.”

A sickening feeling pooled in the pit of his stomach. “W-what?” he repeated, feeling the edges of his vision burning.

“A group attacked him. A bunch of humans. Probably some angels too, if you ask me. Cas doesn’t remember what happened exactly.”

Dean took a shallow breath and gripped his knees tightly, curling on himself to stop his body from shaking. _Inhale, hold and exhale._  He started repeating his safe mantra, trying to keep a new panic attack at bay. _Inhale, hold and exhale._

Dean jumped when a hand clasped his shoulder and he pushed it away, putting his own hand above the old handprint he still carried with him. _Inhale, hold and exhale._  His eyes stung and flooded with tears and Dean tried to keep them from falling. He put a hand over his chest – the sharp inhales weren’t enough to keep his lungs full, the air was too dense, too heavy, who the fuck could breathe in here, anyway? He needed to get up, to go, probably run until his legs were spent and useless, and he could forget this nightmare.

“Calm down.” The hand was back on his shoulder, warmer now, safer as Gabe’s palm started glowing and Dean could feel the air travelling down his throat again to fill his chest with peacefulness and quiet. “It’s okay, Dean. He’s okay.”

Dean felt fresh wet trails spread across his cheeks, but he didn’t bother to wipe them off, eyes set hard on some blurred point on the floor; he just focused on slowing down his breath.

“After he woke up,” Gabriel continued, removing his hand from Dean. “He couldn’t rest until he found you. Even after I explained to him what you had done… what I thought you had done. I see now how wrong I was.” Gabe looked at him with an apologetic expression. “Cas went to see your father first, who showed him your letter. The fake one.” Gabriel shook his head. “But Cas refused to believe that you could have left like that and went after you. Anna and I helped him sneak out of the castle and covered for him while he was gone. It took him a few months, then he got back.”

“Back?” Dean’s voice was frail and trembling as he went on. “Didn’t he find me?”

“Oh, he found you.” He glanced at Dean, then took his place in the armchair.

“And?” Dean pleaded.

“Something inside him broke during that journey. He never told me what happened, but when he got back he forbade me to ever speak about you again.”

“I– I don’t understand. If he found me, why didn’t he speak to me or show himself?”

“I don’t know, Dean, he never said. But whatever it was, it made him believe that what your father said was true.” Gabriel looked out the window in thought. “He was never the same after that. That innocence he had, that happiness so natural to him, was gone with you.”

There was a knock on the door and Dean jumped to his feet, his fight or flight mode kicking in again.

“Relax.” Gabriel got up slowly and moved to the door. “You’re a free man now, remember? Besides,” he looked back with a grin on his face, “I think you’re going to like this.”

“Wha–”

All the breath he had so strenuously taken back into his lungs was stolen away from him as the black-winged figured passed through the door. Dean didn’t need to peek behind the icy blue cloak to know who was under it, and still his knees buckled under him when Cas pulled the hood away and Dean was met with a pair of wide shocked eyes, the blue in them still as clean as the sky during a hot summer’s day. Dean wondered how he had managed to survive a day without them.

Cas darted his head continuously between Gabriel and Dean like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Gabe…” Cas said hesitantly, voice still as husky and mellow as Dean had imagined all these years. “What is this?”

Dean felt himself moving towards Cas, heart trying to beat out of his chest as his legs stepped forward of their own accord. It was like floating, like his soul had just left his body and Dean was watching everything happening in slow motion from above.

“Hey, Cas,” he heard himself saying, voice thick with all the tenderness that was filling his heart right now as a shaky smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You look good.”


	14. Chapter 14

** Three years ago **

They followed the trail both knew by heart now into the depths of the forest. After making sure no one was following them, Dean and Cas ventured between the trees on Chevro’s back. The air was so cold and sharp it hurt to breathe and a long puff of warmth escaped Dean’s mouth as they dismounted. He tightened his gray wool cloak around his body and looked around.

The night’s snowfall had painted the whole city with a blanket of frozen white. The chilling breeze bit at their skin when they had left Dean’s house that morning after breakfast, forcing Dean to go back to put on his coziest and warmest cloak.

Now, at the heart of the forest, the snow-covered landscape was just as beautiful as it was painful. The frostbitten trees had been stripped of their leaves and stood tall and bare except for the sticky icicles hanging from the branches. Some leaves were scattered at their feet, frozen in place as they made their way through the powdery snow.

Cas had his regular icy blue cloak on and his hand was soothing and warm when Dean held it between his after a couple of steps. Apparently, one of the perks of being an angel was that their bodies weren’t as sensitive to temperature changes as humans.

“Not that I don’t love coming here,” Dean said, watching feather-like snowflakes gently kiss Cas’ cheeks, melting away to the touch. “But wouldn’t we be much more comfy in my bed?”

“Getting fresh air is good for us, Dean.”

“You sound like my brother.” Dean hugged himself and rubbed his arms, feeling the cold penetrate his body into the very marrow of his bones. “Besides, that’s easy to say when your ass isn’t freezing cold.”

“I can keep you warm.” Cas pulled Dean into his arms, tucking him close with his wings. Dean immediately felt the blood rushing back to his cheeks and nose inside that cocoon of feathers.

Dean huffed and shook his head. “You’re such a sap.”

They kept walking with Cas snuggled in close to keep Dean warm, the soft crunch of the snow underfoot following their steps as they made the last turn. Dean’s smile slipped away. “What the hell? It’s gone!” Cas was looking at him with a tender smile. “You find this funny? Our place is fucking gone, Cas.”

The angel leaned in to cup Dean’s face, running the pad of his thumb along the cheekbone as warm tendrils of blue and silver grace started to glow against Dean’s skin. Dean squirmed and chuckled as the shimmering grace tickled and nudged along his face all the way down his neck. Cas remained motionless save for the flash of bright blue lined with silver in his eyes; it burned impossibility bright for an instant before it all vanished away. “How about now?” Cas asked, grinning.

“What are y–” Dean gaped at the sudden return of their secret cocoon of wisteria trees. “The fuck is happening?”

Cas laughed cheerfully. “After Lucifer attacked us, I thought it would be better to hide this place from any harm.” They walked through the invisible wall, passing out of frosty white into a warm blanket of green and a serene purple sky. “I put an angelic ward around it. Now only you and I can see it.”

“How is it not cold in here?”

Castiel shrugged playfully. “I thought you would like it better that way. I want you to feel safe here, I want you to be happy.”

“I am…” Dean tugged at Cas’ hand, pulling him closer. “Whenever I’m with you.”

Castiel laughed against his mouth. “Who is the sap now?”

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, lying on his back on the grass and pulling Cas down with him, warm and perfect on top of him, his smile as big and bright as the sunlight that flared around his silhouette, before he leaned down to kiss Dean.

Dean met him halfway, slow and tender, lips sliding together and pulling each other apart while Dean carded his fingers through Cas’ hair, tugging at it and urging his mouth open with his tongue.

Cas mewled and opened up to him, warm and panting as Dean ran his tongue along the path of Cas’ bottom lip before pushing in smoothly. They lingered there for a few steady heartbeats, Cas’ tongue playing with his until Dean’s breath had grown urgent and labored. Castiel was gasping beautifully into him while they rocked languidly together, shivering in bliss between whispers of each other’s names.

The angel sighed; soft, broken moans falling from his lips while he thrust against Dean with more intent.

Dean closed his eyes, not able to stop the shallow intake of air as Cas slid a knee between his thighs, spreading them apart to settle in between. Dean pressed his fingers firmly into Cas’ shoulders, grinding their hips together, soft cocks steadily hardening in sync with the frantic, tiny gasps of air echoing over the soft splashes of the stream and throughout the safety of the clearing.

Cas’ arm snaked around Dean’s waist, hands eagerly searching for Dean’s skin beneath his clothes and digging soft imprints into his ribs. Dean rolled up, meeting him with a little choked off breath, muffled by warm lips, increasingly demanding, that left Dean’s mouth cold to trace a path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

“Cas,” he begged, not sure for what, moving his hand between their bodies to palm Castiel’s cock through his pants. Dean could feel his chest swell; full and complete with something so raw and feral, he was afraid he would explode into nothing, intoxicated by the sweetness of the wisteria trees mixed with Cas’ rich, musky smell, breathing air into Dean’s lungs and surrounding him with the most delicious sounds.

 _Want you so much,_  filled Dean’s thoughts; the intensity of it almost too much to fit in his body as he clung to the angel taking him apart, _I need, inside me…_  He hooked his legs around Cas’ waist, arching his back in a desperate attempt to convey with his body what his brain was failing to put into words.

“Tell me,” Cas panted, hot and thick, pulling Dean’s shirt up, his breath ghosting over Dean’s stomach and making him shiver. Cas pressed a kiss there, nails dragging down Dean’s sides, as he ran his tongue along the sharp line above Dean’s ribs, reverently nibbling at the expanse of exposed skin.

“You,” Dean choked out to the sky that paled in comparison to the blues that met his eyes again. “Never wanted anyone as badly,” he said, taking Cas’ mouth in his again, managing to get rid of their clothes in between intakes of air. “I need to feel you. Inside me.”

Cas’ eyes lost their focus for a moment while their bodies met, bare and touch-starved, in a tangle of legs and skin, arms achingly wrapped around each other while Dean jerked their cocks together.

Cas moaned, eyes closed tightly, his toned muscles clenching under the caress of Dean’s fingertips; stubble sharp and coarse when Dean trailed his jawline with his tongue, nipping lightly at the curve behind his ear. Cas pulled back with a strained whimper.

“I-” Cas inhaled deeply. “I have never done this before,” he said, voice raw with want, lips beautifully swollen and glistening while the angel spoke. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You mean like you’re–”

“You’re the first one that ever made me…” Cas swallowed thickly, forehead pressed heavy and hot on Dean’s. Dean moved to kiss it firmly.

“You won’t hurt me,” he promised into Cas’ furrowed skin. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

Cas nodded once, eyes wide with fear and Dean took his face in his hands, running his thumbs along the cheekbones. “We don’t have to do this.”

Castiel laced his fingers around Dean’s wrist, holding onto him, and shook his head decisively. “I want to.”

“I don’t want you to regret this, Cas,” Dean insisted.

“I won’t.” He smiled. “No matter what happens, I’ll never regret being with you,” he said with a husky voice, “and loving you.” Eyes searched Dean’s with searing, blinding affection, until every speck of concern was gone from Cas’ face, replaced with overwhelming devotion; Dean blinked away the sudden blurriness in his eyes. “I tried not to, you know? At first. When I was too scared to see what was right in front of me. But you’re impossible not to love, Dean Winchester.”

The angel’s heart drummed against Dean’s chest and he stilled with Cas’ gaze held in his. Dean had imagined this a million times, had thought about all the little nuances of this very moment.

Reality was much better than anything Dean could have dreamed – those same eyes, as deep as the sea, looking back at him and Cas’ breath catching at those words, disarming Dean in a thousand different ways. Castiel clutched at Dean’s arm, biting his bottom lip as if he was afraid he had said too much. And Dean wished Cas could see inside him, the way his soul had swelled at the sound of those words, the way Dean felt complete; he could have Cas whispering those words every second of every day and it still wouldn’t be too much.

Dean had tried to avoid this as well, too afraid of what letting someone in would mean, but Cas had crashed into him like waves on the sand.

Dean curled around Cas’ shoulders, lips closing over the hollow of Cas’ neck and burying a shuddering exhale into the strands of dark hair behind his ear. “Cas.” He had meant to say more than just a short of breath word, if not for the million butterflies that seemed trapped inside his chest trying to free themselves. Instead he kissed Cas, with burning cheeks and a promise of _me too._

Cas’ wings fluttered above them in sync with his shallow and ragged breaths and the angel quivered with the softest moan and a plea for more. Dean smiled into his skin.

“I usually do it with oil, but this will do,” Dean said and slid Cas’ index finger between his lips, licking at it intently, watching Cas’ eyes following the slow drag of his finger in and out of Dean’s mouth.

Dean added two more fingers, covering them with his saliva before guiding them between his legs. “You’re gonna have to prep me first, though.” He coaxed Cas’ fingers to his entrance, feeling the angel prod at it lightly, a breathy little whimper escaping Cas’ throat when Dean’s hole tensed momentarily.

Dean shivered; the feeling of Cas gently rubbing the tip of his finger against his rim was too much, and _not enough._

Cas kissed him soundly and pushed in, slowly moving in and out at a constant speed.

“That’s it baby, keep going,” Dean panted, biting back a moan when Cas added a second finger, scissoring and stretching at a tortuously slow pace, and peppering the inside of Dean’s thigh with tender kisses. Dean gasped and clutched at a handful of feathers like a lifeline, trying not to tighten his legs around Cas’ head as the first traces of orgasm pooled in his stomach.

The sudden feeling of Cas’ wet, warm tongue running the length of his cock made Dean arch his back and let go of the wings so he wouldn’t hurt Cas; instead he grasped at the grass, yanking some of it out. _“Fuck.”_

“Do you like that?” Cas rumbled.

Dean leaned back down, laughing breathlessly. “Fuck yeah,” he said, voice deep and wrecked, his heart stuttering in his chest as the angel’s tongue met his cock again. Dean watched transfixed, his eyes trained on Cas slowly running his tongue, warm and reverent, along his shaft. Castiel gave tentative little licks near the base, gently running up the length to slowly swirl his tongue around the head, a trail of saliva following him on the way back down.

Cas kept pushing his fingers inside, his eyes flicking to Dean from time to time, studying Dean’s reactions to make sure he was doing okay. Dean smiled at him, brushing a gentle hand along his cheekbone. “You’re doing so good, baby. Feels so good.”

Cas hummed and curled his hand around the base. He parted his lips, watching Dean intently through his eyelashes, his hot breath hovering above the head, before Cas wrapped his mouth around it and took Dean in.

Dean threw his head back, a strangled noise taking the air out of his lungs as he was slowly taken apart by the tightness of Cas’ mouth moving further down his length while the angel worked a third finger in.

He forced his eyes open to watch Cas again, carding his fingers through the nape of dark hair, while the soft, plump lips moved up and out with a popping sound.

Cas smiled proudly, the sun reflected in a way that set the blue of his eyes on fire. Dean’s breath ragged, Cas was looking at him with such tenderness, slowly scissoring him loose, mouth moving to take him in again, and Dean held him there, close enough to prickle his damp skin.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Dean gasped. “How did I get this lucky?” He caressed the curve of Cas’ lips just as the fingers inside him found that sweet spot and all sense of self-control in Dean was lost. Dean inhaled sharply. “Cas, please,” he mewled, writhing as Cas rubbed at his prostate.

“I just want to make sure you’re properly–”

“I’m ready, Cas, please…” he whined.

Cas pulled back slightly, hands rubbing soothing circles on Dean’s hips and Dean’s breath hitched. For all his experience, Dean had never bottomed before. Not that he didn’t enjoy the burning sensation he got each time he fingered himself, but in his experiences with guys, it had always seemed like too much of a vulnerable position to be on the receiving end of a cock.

And despite all that, Dean found himself covering Cas’ hands with his and spreading his legs wider. “How do you want me?”

Cas’ eyes ignited with icy blue and silver for a moment. “On your side,” he growled.

Dean nodded and complied, suddenly nervous, but before he could dwell on that feeling too much, Cas shifted behind him and draped himself around Dean, chest pressed to Dean’s back, a lingering kiss above the handprint.

“Is this all right?” Cas asked, sounding more broken than just moments ago, and just like that any doubt was lost. Dean tilted his head back with resolve in his eyes, and snatched Cas’ neck, fingers gripping at his hair as Dean crashed their mouths together.

Cas melted into him, carefully raising Dean’s leg to line up with his entrance. They stopped kissing, lips brushing together at the pace of their wrecked moans while Cas looked back into Dean’s eyes and gently pushed into him.

Dean stifled a gasp, the pressure on his walls stretching him much wider than his fingers ever did. He closed his eyes, opening them immediately in regret, needing to see those pools of blue while Cas sank into him with a strangled moan.

“Dean.” They didn’t move for a moment, getting used to the rush of emotions consuming them. “This feels so–”

“I know.”

Cas buried his head in the curve of Dean’s neck, muscles trembling with the force of keeping himself still. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead and Dean kissed it, rolling his hips. “Move, baby.”

Cas gripped him closer, one hand fumbling for Dean’s, fingers tangled together. His other hand burned through Dean’s flesh, sharp fingernails raking along Dean’s hip bones and leaving little pink bruises there while he moved in a gentle, tentative thrust.

Dean’s cock hung swollen and neglected, leaking with precome, but Dean didn’t care when he could focus on Cas instead – the way his breath shuddered with each shallow drag of sweat-covered skin; how his cheeks flushed and he shut his eyes tight, while stuttering Dean’s name in the most beautifully broken voice, hot and heavy on Dean’s neck.

“Faster,” Dean begged, wrapping his arm over Cas’ shoulder and clutching at the angel as he rammed in and out. Dean jerked his hips back, meeting the angel halfway and swallowing the shattered moan that followed.

“Dean,” Cas murmured again like that was the most precious word he knew, slowly trailing his fingertips along Dean’s bare stomach. His wings flared up and he adjusted his position, hitting Dean’s prostate _just right._

“So beautiful,” Cas gasped, lips teasing with the hollow of Dean’s neck, sucking eagerly at the pulse as Cas slid back in. “You’re so beautiful.” He nibbled at Dean’s earlobe, sharp teeth matching his desperate rhythm and Dean could feel in the way his body stuttered that Cas was getting close.

“Dean, I’m–” he whimpered, voice husky against the rim of Dean’s ear as he spasmed abortively. “I’m almost…”

Dean shoved his hips behind and clenched around Cas’ thick cock. Cas sucked in a sharp breath and slammed forward just as hard, hitting that glorious spot in a ruthless rhythm, making Dean’s back arch until his surroundings dissolved into nothing but pleasure.

Through the last of his vision Dean watched Cas, whose eyes were shining bright blue while he guided their lips together.

“Touch me,” Dean choked out.

Cas took him in one firm grip, with fast and steady strokes that made Dean’s toes curl as he mewled in shattering relief before coming all over his stomach and Cas’ hot fist.

Cas pumped him hard through his orgasm, pounding into him a few more times, every muscle in his body trembling when Cas tipped over the edge with him, panting Dean’s name through the waves of his climax and thrusting into him until they were both thoroughly spent and blissfully limp with Cas collapsed half on top of him.

Cas shifted and pulled out of Dean with a quiet whimper, immediately spooning against his back with a content sigh. In other circumstances Dean would object at being the little spoon, but he was too happy to argue a single thing in the world.

Dean shivered at the increasing coldness against their sweaty skins. Cas held him tighter to his chest, pressing warm butterfly kisses along Dean’s shoulders, and covered them both with his wings.

They stayed quiet like that, with their breathing growing steadily heavier, and Dean knew they would both be asleep soon.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too,” Dean whispered, suddenly feeling brave and full of unwavering certainty, hoping the angel wouldn’t be too far gone to hear him. After a few beats he felt Cas’ sleepy lips moving into a smile on his neck.

“Good,” Cas mumbled in a raw gasp with a kiss behind his ear.

 

 

When Dean woke up, he was met with a pair of baby blues and a very happy, very goofy-looking angel staring back at him.

“Hello, Dean.” The whisper met warm air between their mouths before Cas pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.”

“Oh,” Cas pulled away with sudden panic in his eyes. “I tried to be careful. I was so certain that you had enj–”

“I mean it in a good way, Cas. A _very_ good way. The way I can still feel you.” Dean coughed, feeling his cheeks heat up, and mumbled, “I like that.”

“ _Oh._ ” A tender smile was back on Cas’ lips and he reached for Dean’s shoulder, soft fingertips brushed the tender skin of his handprint. “I think I can understand that feeling.” He covered the red mark with his palm, eyes growing darker and burning through Dean. “I can still feel the way my grace connected to you the first time I saw you.”

Dean’s breath got stuck in his throat momentarily before he shook his head and added playfully, “Yeah, yeah, you just like to have your mark on me telling everyone that I’m yours.” He had meant it as a joke, but the laugh that followed fell flat when Dean noticed the way Cas blushed furiously and looked away.

“And are you?” Cas asked in a tentative murmur. “Mine?”

 _I thought that was obvious,_  Dean was about to say and shrug it off as something casual, but nothing between them had ever been casual. Everything had been intense explosions of grace, or dreams in silver and blue, and eyes set on the sky, watching stardust tracing the night. And if Dean had to guess, perhaps that handprint had been it, and Dean had belonged to Cas right from that moment.

So instead Dean cupped Cas’ face with both hands, the flushed skin warm in his palms when he pressed their mouths together, only parting to catch his breath, heart fluttering inside his chest as he uttered against Cas’ gentle lips, “I’m yours.”

 

 

When they got home, Sam and Jess were already there, with matching smiles that almost broke their faces in half. Sam hastily got up from the couch when he saw them. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Dean shared a look with Cas, then looked back at his brother and lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “Here and there.”

There was no real good reason not to tell Sam about Cas, but with all the ups and downs in their relationship it had never seemed like the right time to tell his brother that he was in love with the angel.

And now that they were actually a couple, with Michael and Lucifer as Dean’s personal enemies, it seemed too dangerous to get Sammy involved. Dean made a promise to himself to end all the secrecy and tell everything to his little brother as soon as things calmed down a little.

Sam shook his head. “Yeah, sure.” He turned and smiled at Cas then. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here too! Then I can tell you both at the same time.”

“What’s with all the happy faces?” Dean asked. “You’re making me nauseous.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but got closer. Jess giggled as he clasped their hands together and brought them up to eye level – a wedding ring was on both of their fingers. “We got married!”

“What?!” Dean barked. He didn’t know if he should be happy or mad that he hadn’t been invited. “When? How?”

“During the bonfire,” Jess replied cheerfully. “You know a lot of couples get married during the festivities. They say it brings good luck to have the whole town bless the union.” She shrugged. “We don’t believe in that, but it was a spur of the moment thing.”

Dean scoffed, “Damn it, Sammy, you know I wanted to be present.”

“We know. But we were there, other couples were doing it and we just thought, why not? Besides,” Sam pulled his hair behind his ear, “you disappeared. We already told everyone, we were only missing you two.”

“Congratulations,” Cas suddenly spoke with a smile filling his whole face. “I wish you a very happy life.” He moved to hug Jess, who had tears in her eyes, then Sam. Dean shook his head slowly, then pulled the teary-eyed blonde into his embrace.

“Okay, c’mere, you brat.” They hugged tightly. “I’m really happy for you.” Dean choked up on his own emotions. “I’m sure you’ll make each other really happy.”

“Thank you,” Jess replied, wiping her own tears.

Dean hugged his brother with a painful grip. “You’re gonna do great together.” He pulled away. “Though if I’m honest, between the Winchester brothers she kinda got the short straw in the deal, I mean look at me, right?”

“Shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean laughed. “Congrats, Sammy.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“So are you finally moving in?” Dean turned his attention to Jess.

“I Just did,” she said, chuckling at Dean’s surprised raise of eyebrows. “Well, I still need to go back to get the rest of my stuff but that’s what Sam and I have been doing since the bonfire so we’re mostly done.”

“Man, this is awesome!” Dean patted both of their shoulders. “We need to celebrate!”

“We will.” Sam laughed. “Tomorrow, at the Roadhouse. And in two days we’re going away on our honeymoon.”

Dean whistled. “Wow, that’s fast.”

“Well,” Sam shrugged bashfully. “I had actually been thinking about asking for Jess’ hand for a while now, so let’s say I already had a plan in mind.”

“That’s awesome, you both deserve that.” Dean hugged his brother again. When they pulled apart, Jess clutched at Sam’s side. “Anyone hungry?” she added cheerfully.

They spent the next half an hour getting their lunch ready. While Sam and Cas helped set the table, Jess and Dean prepared the food.

Dean was just nursing a mug of coffee when Cas entered the kitchen again, eyes searching for the next thing to bring to the table, wings trying – and failing – to stay neatly tucked behind him so he wouldn’t break anything in the small confines of the room.

Dean laughed breathlessly. Jess still had her back turned to them, stirring the pot of chicken stew with a wooden spoon before tasting the food.

“It’s an amazing feeling, right?” Dean said, not taking his eyes off Cas.

“Huh?” she asked, still focusing on the food.

“To be that happy with someone,” Dean spoke softly. At that point, Cas had stopped fighting with his wings and had noticed Dean’s gaze on him.

“Being in love is the most amazing feeling in the world, Dean. But don’t worry, I’m sure there’s someone out there meant for you. And one day that person will shatter your world and make you the happiest man on earth.”

Dean’s eyes never left Cas as the angel turned a slight shade of pink at Jess’ words.

“I know they will,” Dean murmured, not missing the way Cas’ feathers fluttered and his blush deepened.

 

 

** Present day **

_‘You look good.’ Seriously, dude? Could you be any more lame?!_  Cas had his eyes on Gabriel so Dean had time to simply watch him: the way his brows were furrowed, his lips tight together in a line while he waited for his brother to reply. Cas was still as mesmerizing and beautiful as three years ago. Dean stepped closer. “Cas–”

Castiel raised his hand, cutting him off. “Stay where you are,” he said, voice harsh. “What is this?” Cas repeated, looking at Gabriel.

“This is what’s best for you, little brother,” he said, placing a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

Cas huffed, ripping his arm free and turning to leave. “I’m not in the mood for you to play the trickster with me.”

“I’m not.” Gabriel blocked the doorway, his expression suddenly much more serious. “Just hear him out, please, it’s important.”

“I have nothing to say to him.” Cas had his back turned to him and Dean closed his hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the dark feathers and smooth the old scars away.

“You don’t have to,” Dean spoke up, his voice steadier than he felt, and watched Cas’ feathers flare with his words. “You can just listen, I promise I won’t take much of your time.”

Cas turned around sharply to face him. “You already took enough.” There was poison in his voice and Dean flinched. It hurt watching Cas like this, aiming that cold expression at Dean – all hatred and none of the tenderness Dean still kept close to his heart. _I’m yours._  Those words still played in Dean’s mind each time he looked at his handprint. There was no more truth to them, not from Cas’ part at least. But Dean was still as devoted.

Cas tensed for a moment, almost tackling Gabriel as he spun around and stormed off.

“Cas, wait,” Dean pleaded and followed him outside, but before he could reach him, the angel was already taking off, leaving Dean behind on the front porch. Dean just stood there, watching him disappear, and wasn’t that the story of his life?

Dean’s eyes followed Cas until he was no more than another blue spot in the clear sky. It was too early to see the stars, but he set his eyes high up, hoping to see a shooting star so he could make a wish… And even without a meteor shower flickering above his head, Dean closed his eyes and wished he could go back to that time when Cas still belonged to him.

Dean opened his eyes again, wiping away a stray tear before nausea finally got the best of him. He ran to the grass and only had time to put his hands on his knees before emptying his stomach.

Gabriel leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms in front of him, watching the now empty sky. “Well, that was–”

“A disaster.” Dean puked again and stood up, the bitter taste burning at the back of his throat while he wiped his mouth.

“At least he didn’t smite you.” Gabe shrugged.

“Yeah, lucky me.” Dean grimaced and spat on the ground.

“Oh, come on.” Gabriel came closer and slapped his back. “What? You thought Castiel would fall right into your arms and you two would run off into the sunset and live happily ever after? This isn’t a fairytale, Dean, you’re going to have to fight for him.”

“I would, if there was any indication that Cas still felt something for me.” He bit his bottom lip. “I mean, besides hate. That one is obviously there.”

“You’ve been together for five seconds, how can you judge such a thing so fast?”

“It’s not just this, it’s…”

“What?” Gabriel snapped his eyebrows at him.

Dean looked away, he wasn’t about to have a heartfelt conversation with Gabe – one that would involve how it still hurt to know that his and Cas’ secret place didn’t exist anymore; and if Dean had any doubts about who had gotten rid of it, after watching Cas today, he didn’t have them anymore. _Dean just knew._

He closed his eyes. “Nothin’.”

Gabriel stretched his wings and laced his hands together behind his head. “Okay, I think it’s time for a stroll.”

“A stroll? Dude, so not the time.”

“Well, you either go freely, or I can force you.” Gabriel took one step forward, a devilish smile on his face as he opened his arms to Dean. “Which may or may not involve cuddling with _moi_ while I take you there… flying.” He shrugged, his expression back to a mirror of innocence. “Your choice, Dean-o.”

Dean sighed deeply; he was too tired to put up a fight. “Can I at least know where we’re going?”

Gabriel turned around with a triumphant smile and started moving up the street, Dean following suit. “We’re going to the forest.”

 

 

“Don’t need to rub more salt in the wound, man, I get it, my and Cas’ place is gone, he mojo’d it into space or something, don’t need to rub it in my face.”

Dean was back at the heart of the forest, this time with Gabriel following close behind instead of his little brother, and it still hurt as deeply as a week ago when he had first realized this was all gone.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes, I wonder why my brother fell in love with you.” Gabriel clutched his arm and traces of golden and green grace circled Dean’s wrist. “Look again,” he said with a grin.

The dead section of forest started to magically fade before his eyes – the clear waters of the stream pumped back in with a rushing flow, cleaning the dusty smooth stones in their wake and enchanting the place with splashing sounds. The once gray areas gave way to an explosion of bright greens and purples. The rotten branches and fallen trees came back to life, tall and vibrant, the long and thick trunks craning high above his head and bursting with rich purple blooms and nuances of pink.

There was a bridge Dean had never seen before; it was small and made of wood, crossing over the stream to land on the small clearing on the other side. “That’s not from your time,” came Gabe’s voice from behind him while Dean slowly made his way to the other side, taking in the miracle happening in front of him.

“H-how?” he stuttered, voice thick and breaking with emotion.

“When Castiel got beaten, his link to this place got broken along with the protection he had put around here,” Gabriel said, arms behind his back and hands clutched together as the wood of the bridge creaked under his footsteps.

“And with that, your invitation here got broken too,” he continued, pressing his palm to one of the trees. “As soon as he woke up he told me all about it and I took over for a while. I invoked a new protection and took care of this place until Cas was strong enough to do it himself. He has been taking care of this ever since.” His palm glowed against the tree and he hummed contemplatively. “Castiel and I are the only ones allowed to see this.” Gabriel turned partially to Dean, scanning the rest of the trees before looking back directly at him. “And now you, once again.”

“That’s why I couldn’t see this before?”

“Yes.”

“Not because…”

“Nope.”

Dean felt such a rush of relief and happiness that his knees buckled beneath him and he sat down on the grass. He looked around again, this time with a small sigh and a wistful smile tugging at his lips. Everything was still stunningly the same: the sweet fragrance, the cascade of purple blooms dangling in the soft breeze, everything was blissfully the s–

Dean stood up, barely hearing Gabriel’s soft laugh.

At the center of the clearing there was something new – a single tree, smaller than the others, younger; it was a wisteria tree, there was no surprise there, but what made him come closer and ran his hands along its bark was the color. Instead of purple flowers, these ones were the most familiar green he had ever seen, the clusters tickling at his skin as he got nearer to inspect them. The green was sprinkled with light browns, almost as if…

“Freckles,” Dean whispered, absently touching his face.

“You’re finally getting there, my friend.”

“I didn’t know there were wisteria trees with this kind of color.”

“There aren’t.” Gabriel smiled lightly and lay on the grass with his hands tucked behind his head, closing his eyes. “Castiel created this tree and has been nurturing it for the last three years.” He opened one eye at Dean. “So now are you ready to hear my plan?”


	15. Chapter 15

** Present day **

“This is a bad idea, Dean,” Sam yelled over the commotion that surrounded them while people made their way in.

“Bad ideas are my forte.”

“I still fail to understand why me coming along was necessary.” Charlie smoothed out her mint-leaf, floor-length dress, looking quite miserable behind her black filigree mask.

“What? Are you afraid Gilda will get jealous of your dashing date tonight?” Dean said, nudging her with his elbow. Charlie snorted and pulled on her mask to scratch the bridge of her nose. “Besides, what’s wrong with a little adventure? This could be fun,” he continued, looking around the square above the sea of animal shaped masks and costumes of all kind. It was quite the view: there were feathers coloring people’s hair and tricorn hats perching lopsided on different heads, clothes adorned with elegant jewels and dark loose cloaks floating behind as people bounced past them.

“A party full of angels.” Jess squinted behind her silver butterfly-shaped mask. “Yeah, I wonder what could go wrong.” She smiled and turned her head to Dean, causing the silver sequin tassels dangling on either side of her mask to tinkle gently. White feathers completed her mask along with four small pink jewels at the center that matched the color of her ball gown.

The four of them stood in front of the castle entrance – the double doors were wide open in invitation to the masquerade ball happening inside.

 _This_ was Gabriel’s _brilliant plan_.

Dean had vehemently said no to him at first – one of the requirements for Michael to allow him to stay in the city was for him to stay away from Castiel. Granted, Dean wasn’t much of the following rules type of guy, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be smart about it, and going straight to Michael’s house to meet Cas was one hundred percent _the opposite_  of smart.

So Dean had said no… Until Gabe had explained this ball was supposed to be the day Castiel would meet his bride – she and her family would stay in the castle for the rest of the month until the wedding day.

Shivers had shot down Dean’s spine like cold daggers at Gabe’s words. He had swallowed the raw emotions suddenly making him sick and had nodded his agreement right in that instant even though he knew the risk he was taking – if Michael saw him here tonight, he could very well be killed or sent back to the front lines, but protecting himself could mean losing Cas for good and Dean would rather be damned to the hellfires of war than let that happen again.

So here they were. The costumes and masks they were wearing gave them a  chance to meddle without raising suspicions, and the open invitation for all humans and angels made it easier to get inside the most guarded place in the kingdom. Dean gulped because, _yeah, that thought isn’t intimidating at all._

“All right, guys,” he said out loud. “Scoot! If anyone sees Cas, let me know.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be easy among this swarm of people.”

“C’mon, smile, you’re at a party.” Dean was feeling quite positive tonight. His black eye mask provided him an escape from what it meant to be Dean Winchester nowadays – someone who didn’t quite belong, an outlander, always looking for a way to fit again; and each time someone recognized him, Dean was reminded of everything he had lost.

Not tonight. Tonight he was just another mask in the crowd and he could be anyone he wanted.

Dean absently touched the dark feathers decorating each side of his mask. Gabriel had bought them the costumes they were wearing tonight. Dean’s was fancier than he was used to or liked, but instead of feeling uncomfortable in it like he had expected, he felt… safe. A sigh of relief had left his lungs as soon as the marble-cold mask with adornments that matched Cas’ eyes in color had touched his skin. Dean ran his rough fingertips along the icy blue detailing, a gentle smile reaching his lips before he could help it.

Dean felt free for the first time in years as he faded away among the excited crowd heading to the hall. His black velvet court coat with icy blue filigree disappeared amid the extravagant colors, elaborate designs and mysterious masks patterned after the ancient gods. It was like Dean’s wildest dreams had decided to come together and organize a party. He didn’t know where to look next: there were deep yellow and red half-masks, and costumes changing from light pink to pure black, with translucent gemstones adorning each rich fabric. It was fascinating.

The hall was a vast mess of fleeting beauty, framed by white walls and elegant furniture embellished with golden scrollwork, and imposing statues coated in gold leaf. A matching doorway led to the ballroom – a wide open room, covered with carpets and illuminated by tall gilded chandeliers. Hidden faces pranced up and down the mirrored room, providing a festive and noisy atmosphere to the long space. There were several waiters and waitresses sublimely dressed, lavish food on the exorbitant-decorated tables that outlined the ballroom and music that fit the occasion.

Dean walked through the carnivalesque parade of colors, jumping as a man dressed in an orange and yellow harlequin costume spat fire in front of him in a skillful fire performance.

He took a glass of champagne from one of the trays passing by and sipped on the sweet and bubbly liquid while inspecting the room.

“Hello, Dean-o.”

Dean almost jumped out of his skin, spilling some of the expensive champagne on the floor. “Shit, Gabe, don’t do that.” The angel was grinning behind his white, black and golden mask. “How did you know it was me?” Dean asked, suddenly filled with panic.

“I bought you the costume, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Dean sighed in relief and gulped half of his glass.

“Relax, no one’s going to recognize you, you’re safe.” He patted Dean’s back. “So, have you seen him yet?”

Dean didn’t have the chance to reply. At the center of the room, there they were – the dark as night wings that Dean could still feel under his fingertips. Castiel was dancing, moving around the room in time with the soft notes being played. Countless other couples filled the dancing floor, twirling and gliding around the perimeter in a counterclockwise motion, but Dean only had eyes for his angel.

Dean knew Gabriel was talking, but he wasn’t listening anymore; his legs moved slowly, shuffling through the crowd, avoiding the blur of colors, with eyes set on the black-winged angel.

Castiel’s usual icy blue cloak had been replaced with a pure white one trimmed in a pattern of gold; the lightweight fabric floated around him as he swirled around in his white satin shirt and gray pants. His mask covered only half of his face and Dean could see he was smiling, his eyes twinkling as he swayed around and drifted to the back of the room to complete another circle.

Dean took a shaky inhale, placing his hand on his chest because for a moment he had forgotten how to breathe. Cas was gliding back to where Dean stood among the crowd watching the couples dancing. His white mask with intricate golden and icy blue patterns glowed under the warm light in the room as he drew near with his dancing partner.

Heart still racing, Dean made sure his mask was properly secured on his face, placed his glass on a nearby table and moved toward the dance floor, carefully matching himself to Cas’ trajectory. He took one last breath and approached the man dancing with Castiel when they passed in front of him. Dean touched the other person’s arm and bowed.

Cas smiled politely when the man moved away, and Dean straightened up and drew near, smiling in spite of his nervousness. His hand rested on Cas’ waist as Dean pulled him closer and curled their fingers together before they started dancing.

His handprint was burning through his clothes and Dean feared everyone would be able to tell the way his soul was exploding from the inside. Three years. Dean had waited three years to come back to him. Somewhere along the way he had forgotten what it was like to fit, to belong – but here, with Cas in his arms, it felt as natural as breathing and Dean was home.

Dean gulped, glancing up at Cas, and their eyes finally met. He could pinpoint the exact moment Cas recognized him, his blue eyes wide behind his mask and mouth hanging open with a muted gasp. Dean smiled. “Hey, Cas. It’s good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?” Cas blurted.

“Well, everyone was invited tonight, right? I thought I should come take a look.”

Castiel yanked his hand out of Dean’s grasp and started to pull away, but Dean tightened his hold. “Please, Cas, don’t. If you storm off right now I might as well put a sign above my head and let everyone know that I’m here.”

Castiel stilled at his words. He bit his lip and briskly looked around before his eyes landed on Dean again. A few heads were turned to them, watching with curiosity what looked like the angel’s attempt to leave.

He sighed and draped his arms around Dean again. “If Michael sees you here–”

“He won’t,” Dean assured him. “People can’t recognize me with this costume.”

“I did,” Castiel said, studying the room, probably looking for any sign of his brother.

“Well, you’ve always known me better than most,” Dean whispered and Castiel locked eyes with his.

They didn’t speak for a while, and Dean let himself get enthralled by the soft melody, the deep laughs and cheerful tones that surrounded them. Cas was still as mesmerizing, eyes still as pure as the sky, his body warm against Dean’s, swaying gently to the music. Dean wanted to bask in this moment for the rest of his life.

Dean pulled Cas tightly against his chest, his fingers roaming across Cas’ back, making the angel’s breath catch briefly and come out harshly to graze Dean’s neck. A tuft of fluffy feathers plumed at the top of Cas’ mask, gradually bleaching from golden sand to solid white – Dean didn’t know there were feathers like this.

Dean smiled softly, remembering the freckled wisteria tree. Who knew a tree like that could exist, but there it was, giving him hope that perhaps there was still a chance to fix things with Cas. “Lots of feathery costumes tonight, huh?” Dean flicked his eyes from the white feathers to Cas. “Now all they need is a harp and a halo and they’re good to go.”

Cas frowned and tilted his head. “I don’t understand what a halo and a harp have to do with feathers.”

“You know, angels… fluffy wings, a halo on their heads, playing a harp?”

“We don’t do such things, Dean. Some of us like that instrument, but I find it the most boring activity. And I fail to see how wearing a halo at all times on top of our heads would be practical.”

Dean laughed, a full laugh with his whole body, not caring to muffle it because no one would hear him in the middle of everything else happening around them. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and looked at Cas. “I was just kidding, Cas.”

Cas’ cheeks flushed red and he shrugged. “I was just explaining.”

Dean smiled tenderly. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Dean…” Cas was shaking his head, but Dean didn’t miss the way his dark feathers fluttered.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Dean reached out to caress his burning cheek, stroking his thumb over the stubbled skin.

“You should go, Dean,” Cas said, hand clutching at Dean’s arm with a despair that matched Dean’s.

 

 

“I saw our place.” Dean smiled and leaned closer, meeting Cas’ gaze. “You did a great job taking care of it.”

Cas let go of his arm like he had been burned. “You– You saw it? How?”

“Gabe.”

“No! You had no right to go there.”

“Cas,” Dean pleaded, his fingers drifting to the angel’s neck. “That’s our place.”

“It stopped being your place when you decided to leave,” Cas said, voice back to a sharp, cold tone.

“I didn’t get to decide, Cas, I was kidnapped.”

Cas closed his eyes and shook his head sharply.

“If I had a choice, I would have never left… I would have never left you,” Dean continued. “Whatever you think I–”

“I don’t think anything, Dean, I know!”

“Cas–”

“What do you want?” Cas interrupted, voice louder than before.

“I just wanna talk. Give me a chance to explain what happened.”

The music ended and everyone stopped the dance. People cheered and applauded the musicians and they stopped dancing as well, but neither let go.

“Cas!” came the sharp voice, making them pull apart.

Castiel glanced sharply behind Dean and his eyes widened in fear. “It’s Inias.”

“Oh,” Dean instinctively followed Cas’ gaze, but before he could turn his head, Cas pulled him by the wrist, quickly forcing their way through the crowd. “What– Where are we going?”

“We can’t risk him seeing you.”

“Okay?” Dean could hear Inias’ voice in the distance; it was fading, but no doubt still trying to catch up to them.

They followed the set of double staircases to the first floor, their steps echoing against the eerie and deserted walls as they strode through a couple of halls and made it up another flight of stairs. Dean was led across the hard marble floors, admiring the exquisite paintings as they turned right and crossed the wide corridors to the opposite wing of the castle.

They followed one last corridor and came to a stop at the third door, entering the room without a word.

“Well, Cas, if you wanted to get me into your room, all you had to do was ask.”

Cas whirled around; his _I’ll-smite-your-ass_  expression was just as impressive as Dean remembered, even with a half mask covering it. “Stay here. I’m going to ask someone to come for you and take you home safely.”

“What? No!” Dean stopped him. “Please, we need to talk, just hear me out.”

Cas pulled his arm away from Dean’s grip. “I told you there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I was there!” Dean yelled. Cas stopped, two steps away from the door; his back was turned to Dean, but he could see a glimpse of Cas’ jaw clenching. “That night I waited for you. A bag on my back, ready to say goodbye to my family. _For you._  And I would have waited all night if Michael hadn’t shown up with his minions to take me away. He and my father got together to ship me off to Micalzo because they knew that the only way they could keep me away from you was by force.”

Cas’ wings shuddered when Dean got closer, and he closed his eyes, allowing Dean to touch his wrist.

“Please believe me.” He took another step towards the angel. “Read my mind if you want.”

“I’ll never get inside your head again,” Cas replied, locking eyes with him.

Dean swallowed the sudden lump of hurt in his throat and looked away.

“You know,” Dean continued, ignoring the pain trying to consume him whole. “When I was out there fighting, in the middle of all that horror, it’s hard not to let it tear you apart.” He looked up, meeting those baby blues with a smile that matched his sadness. “So I would touch your handprint. I did that every night for the first year I was there.” His voice was breaking, but he forced himself to keep going. “I could still feel you there, rumbling underneath the surface, calling for me to come home. To come to you.” His fingertips slowly traced Cas’ arm. “So I fought, took it one day at a time, hoping one day I would get to see you again.”

Cas heaved a sigh, bottom lip quivering while he shook his head. He closed his eyes and Dean leaned in. “Cas… baby, please.”

The angel snapped his eyes open as if breaking out of a spell. “Don’t come any closer.” Cas stepped back and splayed his hand flat over Dean’s chest to stop his advance, blue and silver light shining beneath his palm.

Dean pressed closer, challenging Cas to make use of his grace. “You would never hurt me, remember?”

“People change.”

“Not like that they don’t.”

“I am not the same person anymore, Dean,” he choked out, not able to keep the sadness out of his voice. There were tears shimmering in his eyes and Dean covered Cas’ hand with his.

“Neither am I,” Dean whispered and drew closer, ignoring the way his eyes were burning with tears as well. “And I know it hurts, I’m hurting too. But I won’t let go, Cas.” He clutched Cas’ hand in his. “I will never let go of what I feel for you. That will never change.”

Cas dried the tears that were running loose. “It’s too late, I’m getting married.”

“It’s not too late, I promise you. I’m still here. I’m still waiting for you.” They were a breath away from each other. Dean could see each different shade of blue in Cas’ eyes pulling him closer as he slid his hand around Cas’ shoulder.

“You shouldn’t. You are with your family now, you’ve got your whole life back, you should–”

“Not my whole life,” he interrupted him, shaking his head. “I’m missing a piece.” Dean’s hand found the nape of Cas’ neck and the angel went without resisting when Dean pulled their mouths together.

The _you_ was left unsaid, but Dean made sure to say it in the way he held Cas close, taking in each of his desperate moans as he slowly removed their masks.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but Dean was never good with words, so instead he groaned and parted his lips to let Cas in, demanding and desperate, his fingers firm along Dean’s body. _I missed you,_  Dean said with scraping teeth and bruising lips.

 _Don’t leave me,_  was bursting through his chest as he gasped in surprise when Cas grabbed him by the waist and pulled his feet off the ground. Dean instinctively wrapped his legs around him and pulled at Cas’ bottom lip when his back collided with the wall behind him.

 _I need you,_  filled the heaps of ragged breaths echoing through the room as he dug his fingers into Cas’ neck and matched Cas’ urgent beat with his mouth.

Cas pulled away to catch his breath, gently putting Dean down and pressing their foreheads together. Dean sighed in contentment, tightening his arms around the angel’s shoulders when Cas cupped his cheek, hand warm and tender, his thumb absently grazing along Dean’s cheekbone.

They didn’t move for what felt like hours, pressed against each other, their heartbeats slowly lulling them into a comfortable silence. Dean opened his eyes, afraid that he would lose this too if he didn’t hold on tight. _I love you… I love you,_  he repeated to himself, hoping that Cas would break his promise and listen to his thoughts.

“Cas? Are you all right?” came a voice from outside, making them pull apart abruptly. Dean’s knees were shaking and he leaned against the wall to keep himself from falling.

“Yes, I’m fine, Inias.” Cas exhaled and cleared his throat. “Just wanted to refresh a little before going back down.”

“Oh, I see,” Inias replied. “Can I come in?”

“No!” Cas leaped towards the door. “No,” he repeated more evenly. “There’s no need, I was just on my way out.” He looked back at Dean before putting his mask back on. Dean nodded in a silent _I’ll wait here,_  and watched Cas slip away through the door and out of sight.

Dean slid down the wall and sat with his legs pulled to his chest, his arms tightly around them. He stayed in silence for the longest time, hoping that Cas would return, until a knock on the door pulled him to his feet.

A tall angel, with blonde hair and a snarky smile, winked at him. “Hey, you.”

“Balthazar?”

“The one and only.” He bowed theatrically. “Cas told me you needed an escort home.”

Dean snorted, but didn’t bother bickering with him because right now he could really use the coziness of his own home.

 

 

When Dean got back home he didn’t bother to turn on the lights and went straight to the couch. He was almost asleep when his brother barged in with Jess on his heels.

“Dean! What happened? You disappeared, we got worried.” Sam pushed away Dean’s legs so he could sit next to him. “Gabriel told us Balthazar had brought you here. How did it go with Cas?”

“Jeez,” Dean muttered. “Can you stop with the interrogation? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Dean!”

Dean opened one eye and raised his head at his now maskless brother and Jess, who had sat down to take off her shoes and was now rubbing her feet. Dean slumped back on the couch.

“I don’t even know. We kissed, but I guess he’s still marrying that chick. Then he disappeared… as freaking usual. And now I’m here.” He shoved Sam away and crossed his legs over the couch again. “Trying to get some goddamn sleep, so if you don’t mind.” He put one arm over his head.

“So, you’re just giving up?”

“No, I’m _getting up_  and getting out of here if you don’t stop talking in the next five seconds.”

Sam scoffed.

“Let your brother sleep, sweetie,” Jess spoke for the first time. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I would listen to the brains of the duo,” Dean mumbled against his arm.

Sam only huffed sharply and stormed out of the room.

After a while Jess smacked his arm. “I know you’re probably sad, but you don’t need to be a jerk about it. We’re just trying to help.”

Dean didn’t reply, but the guilt clawing at his guts, along with the sadness of having Cas leave him again, was enough to send him into a restless night.

 

 

When he woke up in the morning his back was killing him. _Note to self – never let your sorry ass sleep on the couch again._

Dean followed the smell of freshly brewed fragrance and was rewarded with pure, hot coffee waiting for him in the kitchen. He slowly poured the dark liquid into a mug and closed his eyes, savoring the rich flavor – kind of sour and sweet, with a little bit of bitterness at the end, exactly how Dean liked it. Another thing he had missed back at the front. Dean sighed, blowing off the puff of steam coming out of the mug.

“Hey.” Jess’ voice pulled his head from the mug, a pile of dirty clothes in her hands. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, hiding his face in the coffee again. “Sorry ‘bout last night.”

“Don’t worry.” Jess shrugged, giving him a smile that went from ear to ear. “Sam and I understand. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, then.” She went around the kitchen island to plant a kiss on his cheek. He smiled back at her and she nodded quickly before resuming her task.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Oh, he went out early. Said he had some stuff to do at your mother’s house. Something with your father, I don’t know.”

“Dad? Did Mom accept him back?”

“Hm? Oh, no. They stay in the basement, doing who knows what. Mary is still mad at him.”

“I see…” What the hell was his brother up to with their father? Dean finished his coffee and helped Jess wash their clothes in the laundry tub outside. By the time they were done and ready for lunch, Sam still hadn’t returned, but Jess assured him Sam had warned her he would probably be late.

Dean had the day off so he spent his free time reading. He hadn’t read much since he had returned and he missed that. Perhaps if he wanted to learn how to belong again, he could start with smaller things, one piece at a time, until the old scars didn’t hurt as deep.

Dean smiled, looking down at the large book in his hands and feeling hopeful again. One piece at a time. That’s what he would do. He wasn’t going to give up.

 

 

** Three years ago **

His little brother was a married man. Gosh, Dean still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Sammy and Jess were husband and wife now and the only reason he had forgiven them for marrying without him present was the happiness that filled their faces.

They were at the Roadhouse celebrating the occasion. Everyone was there – family, friends, people Dean had never seen before – hell, even a couple of angels. Cas, for starters, who stood by the bar in an avid conversation with Charlie. The redhead had just told him something funny Dean couldn’t hear from where he was on his stool, alongside John and Gabriel.

Both Gabriel and his father were silent, each staring at different points of the room, and Dean let his eyes drift to Cas again, watching him through his eyelashes while nursing a mug of ale. Dean could probably watch Cas like this forever – all happiness and none of the concerns that usually clouded his eyes, delicate wrinkles playing at the corners as he laughed softly, that full, beautiful gummy smile of his that never failed to tug at Dean’s heart.

Dean tried to take it all in: the way his nose scrunched as he squinted at the drink being offered to him. The soft blush reaching his cheeks when Jess nudged his arm and kissed his cheek. The way he touched his face after, eyes wide in surprise as if he wasn’t used to being accepted so naturally by someone other than blood. Bobby used to say that family don’t end with blood, and Cas was part of the family now.

Cas was happy, that much was obvious, and Dean was partly the reason why. Just a day ago, Dean would have sworn that would be impossible, but right now, it wasn’t hard to understand the feeling blooming inside his chest. Dean was happy too.

The angel locked eyes with him and Dean held his gaze, his heart so full he was afraid it would explode right here in front of everyone.

Someone cleared their throat and the sharp sound alone pulled Dean out of his daze. John was looking at Dean, a cold, deadly stare that sent a chill straight down his spine. His father’s eyes were seething with anger as he narrowed them at Dean, then slowly shifted to where Castiel stood. Dean could hear the gears in his father’s head turning as shadows crept across his features.

The angel was oblivious to what was happening just a few steps away from him and Dean felt the urge to wrap Cas in his arms and take him away from here and whatever was going on inside his father’s head.

“So, nice party, huh?” Gabriel spoke up

“Some of the customers leave a lot to be desired.” John set his eyes back on his drink before downing his mug in a gulp.

“Dad!”

“What? He asked.” John shrugged, stopping a waitress passing by to order another drink. He glared at Gabriel then gestured with a thumb to Castiel. “And what are you and that one doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be helping out in the war?”

“I’m a _make love not war_  kinda guy. And so is my brother.”

John snorted. “Judging by the black staining those feathers I very much doubt that.”

Gabriel’s eyes flashed golden for a moment before going back to their usual light-brown. “That’s not my brother anymore. Nowadays Cas takes care of flowers and watches the bees. He doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“No? But he should. You all should join the war and kill some of those dicks. That’s what I would do if I could.”

“Yup…” Dean said absently, his mind was still caught up on the way his father had looked at Cas. If Dean didn’t do anything quickly, he was scared of what his father might do to Castiel, and he wouldn’t, he couldn’t let anything happen to him. If only they could run away from this…

“You agree with this?” Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up.

Dean’s head snapped to him. “What?”

Dean looked back and forth between the angel and his dad. John was looking at him expectantly; the coldness from before was gone and Dean didn’t want to see that expression on his father’s face ever again, not when it was being directed at Cas. And if lying was the way to go, if that would keep his father away from Cas, he would fucking do it. He shrugged and added, “Of course. To wipe out some feathered asses? Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Someone with good sense.”

“Good for you, son.” John clanged their mugs together.

“Yeah, I mean.” Dean took a long pull of the richly flavored liquid. “I’ve thought about enlisting a few times myself.”

“Oh, really?” Gabe was looking at him incredulous. “Well, good luck getting to Micalzo without an angel to keep your ass safe and escort you there. Or you think everything is rainbows and flowers out there?” Gabriel jumped to his feet. “Without one of those _angel dicks_  you wouldn’t last a day, much less make it to the front lines in the first place.” He stomped away.

Gabriel had every right to be pissed, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about it, not if it was to protect Cas.

 

 

The next day Sam and Jess went away on their honeymoon. As soon as they were out the door, Cas was knocking on it, smiling sweetly at Dean, duffle bag on his shoulder and ready to stay the rest of the week with him.

Dean had taken a few days off and Gabriel had promised to cover Cas’ ass while he was with Dean, which meant they were utterly, blissfully alone for a whole week.

The days flew by between tender touches and soft smiles, whispered sweet nothings before falling asleep and lazy kisses in the morning. They would stay up for hours on end just talking and learning everything there was to know about each other, or curl up against one another on the sofa without saying a word. Dean had never been happier, getting lost in the way Cas moaned and shuddered against him, finding all his sweet spots as they slowly undid each other.

But Dean couldn’t help the heaviness in his heart each time he remembered the way his father had looked at Cas back at the Roadhouse. Dean knew that look; it was the same one he used to see in his father’s eyes each time they went hunting when Dean was younger. It was the look of a hunter, studying his prey, calculating the right time to make a move. If he knew his father well, which Dean was certain he did, John Winchester was about to do something to Cas.

And then there was Michael. Who knew what he would do to Cas when he found out they were together?

Dean sighed heavily. Sam was getting back in two days and Dean couldn’t shake the feeling of dread filling his chest – as if all this happiness he was sharing with Cas was about to end. Dean gulped and pulled Cas tightly to his chest; they had come to bed a while ago, but Dean couldn’t sleep.

“Dean?” Cas mumbled, cheek scraping Dean’s chest when he shifted to look up at him through sleepy eyelids. “Are you all right?”

Dean met his gaze, thumb tracing Cas’ bottom lip and pulling him closer for a kiss. “I can’t lose you,” Dean whispered into his lips.

Cas covered Dean’s hand with his. “Why are you saying that?”

“Promise me I won’t lose you.”

Cas drew near and kissed him soundly. “I promise.”

Dean pulled away, with a new conviction in his eyes and a decision made. “Then run away with me.”


	16. Chapter 16

** Present day **

It was late in the night and Dean couldn’t sleep. He had had another nightmare full of flashbacks of war, and when that happened Dean always had a hard time going back to sleep.

He turned on his side only to be faced with a figure perching on the window’s ledge. Dean sat up abruptly, making a grab for his Leviathan.

“Dean.” The gravelly voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Cas? Damn it, dude, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“My apologies.” Cas drew near, his wings moving awkwardly behind him; their silhouette framed by the moonlight didn’t look quite right and Dean squinted to see better in the almost darkness.

“Cas, are you–”

The angel hobbled forward and Dean was on his feet and by the angel’s side before he could think about it. His hands touched Cas’ lightly, coaxing him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What happened?” Dean rasped, exhaling sharply.

Cas’ wings were a mess, several feathers ruffled and distended in the wrong direction, smudged with something that looked like blood. Dean sat behind him, instinctively reaching to caress the long feathers, but he faltered halfway, not sure if he was still allowed to touch Cas’ wings.

“You can,” Cas said, making Dean flinch out of his own thoughts. “If you want to.”

Dean swallowed thickly and nodded even though Cas had his back turned to him. “What happened?” he repeated. Cas gasped at the first touch, going pliant under Dean’s touch as he slowly stroked one of the wings along the bone up to the joint, smoothing the downy feathers there.

“Michael,” Cas sighed.

“Your brother did this to you?!”

“Well, I deserved it.”

“What could you possibly have done to deserve this?”

“Almost killing him for starters.”

Dean stilled. _Well fuck._

“I was angry,” Cas supplied and took a deep breath. “I confronted Michael with what you and Gabriel told me. Of course he tried to deny it, but he was not very convincing.” Cas tried to shrug, wincing in pain instead. “You know I’ve always had trouble keeping my grace under control when I get angry.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I remember.” Dean got up to get a damp cloth. He had a bottle of wing oil still lying around in one of his drawers from the time Cas had stayed with him. He reached for the small, round container and shook it lightly. The oil had healing and protective properties and helped to waterproof the feathers and keep them clean and healthy. This thing was three years old, but he guessed angel stuff didn’t have exactly an expiration date so this would do. Besides, Cas urgently needed it.

When he sat down again, Cas quickly glanced over his shoulder, a smile pulling at his lips. “You still have that?”

Dean hummed, focusing on cleaning off the blood with the cloth before covering his fingers with the oil. He started with the feathers over the shoulder blades, stroking them slowly, watching the feathers ripple under his greasy fingers, gradually relaxing Cas’ muscles until the angel leaned back into Dean’s hands and started purring.

“I missed this,” Cas sighed and dropped his head to his chest.

“I missed this too.” Dean started grooming Cas’ secondary feathers, smearing the long feathers in oil, pulling at them softly and straightening each feather as he went on. He repeated the process thoroughly, leaving the longest primary feathers for last.

When he was done both wings were looking considerably better and Cas was completely relaxed – mouth slack, eyes closed and purring in contentment. Dean leaned down, feeling a wave of boldness rushing through his veins, and planted a kiss on the base of Cas’ neck. “I missed you.”

“Dean…”

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” Even after Michael’s admission, or lack thereof, there was still something holding Cas back. Gabriel had told him Cas had been hell bent on finding Dean all those years ago – he had refused to believe Dean could have left him like that. So why was it so hard for him to believe that now? “What happened when you came to find me in Micalzo?”

Cas’ wings flared hastily and he tensed again.

“Okay, that’s it,” Dean said and turned Cas around by his shoulders. Blue eyes met Dean’s in surprise while he curled his fingers around the angel’s wrist. “Just read my mind, Cas.” Dean lifted Cas’ hand and pressed it to his cheek, nuzzling slowly against the palm and covering the slim fingers with his own. “See for yourself what happened that day.”

Cas muffled a whimper and his hand started to glow in blue with specks of silver. The grace was warm and pleasant against Dean’s skin and they both gasped when Dean’s soul exploded with life, swirling and curling around his veins, filling his chest with excitement as tendrils of joy touched and recognized Cas’ grace.

“I can see your soul hasn’t changed much.” Cas heaved a breath and chuckled.

“I wouldn’t know,” Dean admitted out of breath. “This is the first time I’ve felt my soul in three years.”

Cas’ eyes widened and he tentatively reached with his free hand for Dean’s chest. He watched in silence for a while, the hand on Dean’s chest shining bright and gently pulling at Dean’s soul. “It’s still so beautiful,” Cas murmured before looking up again. “Are you ready?”

Dean gave him a reassuring smile before closing his eyes and letting Cas in, leading them both back to the day that had forever changed their lives.

 

 

** Three years ago **

Dean was never much of a dreamer. And yet, he had been daydreaming ever since that morning, throughout his work and up to this point late in the night. Sammy was returning from his honeymoon tomorrow and if Dean wanted to go through with this, it had to be today.

The way John had looked at Cas back in the Roadhouse still haunted Dean. Ever since that day there was a sense of dread always creeping under his skin and Dean needed to get Cas out of here, he needed to keep him safe before Michael or Lucifer or John could do anything to hurt him.

The lie he had told his father would be enough to keep him at ease for a while, entertaining the idea that his oldest son wanted to enlist and kill some angels, but soon that lie would wear thin and his father would realize Dean’s real feelings about it.

So they were leaving, tonight, before Sammy could get home and lock eyes with Dean and make him lose the courage to leave him behind. Even if it was temporary.

He and Cas were stealing one of the boats and using the night’s offshore winds in their favor to sail out of port and up the coast to Luah City. Once there, they would meet with Samandriel, an angel Cas had assured could be trusted, who had promised to help them and keep them hidden until they were sure no one was looking for them anymore.

After that, they would follow the trail up the mountain and descend to a small town on the eastern side named Isro. The plan was to stay there until things cooled down. And then, well, then they would start their life together.

“Our life,” Dean murmured out loud to taste the words in his mouth. They were about to leave their lives behind to start a new one… together. And even with the sacrifices they would have to make, Dean couldn’t help but feel excited by the prospect of living with Cas, of building a life with him, maybe marrying him one day.

Dean sighed with a smile and packed up the last of his clothes. He slung his bow over his shoulder; his Leviathan was already secure in the scabbard on his hip and his bags sat steadily in his hands. He was ready to go.

He went downstairs and once at the front door he stopped to take one last look at the house. _This isn’t for long,_  Dean promised himself. As soon as they had settled down in Isro and had made sure it was safe, Dean would send word to his family to let them know he was okay. Maybe with time he could convince them to join him and Cas on the other side of the mountain, away from Michael’s and John’s crap, and the war that was coming to their doorstep.

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together and Dean bet Lucifer was out there right now plotting his revenge against Michael and whole the city along with him. Dean would make sure he kept his whole family safe; he would come back for them.

And yet. Dean looked down at the letter in his hand. He and Cas had decided to not warn anyone so as to not leave any tracks behind that would allow Michael or John to find them.

But if Dean was being honest, he knew right from the start that it would be impossible to leave without reassuring his little brother somehow, to let him know that he would come back. Dean had been careful not to include anything revealing in the letter he wrote, but leaving this letter was still a risk, he knew that. He squeezed the small square of paper and sighed; before he could change his mind he quickly ran upstairs and left the letter addressed to Sammy above his pillow.

He mounted Chevro and left. Outside a storm raged against the frame of the house; the rain hit the ground like arrows cutting through the air as another crack of thunder roared in the distance. Dean pulled his hood over his head, but by the time he and Chevro reached the harbor, every bit of his body was drenched and Dean was shivering from head to toe.

Dean turned to his mare and hugged her. “Thanks for bringing me here, Baby, but it’s time for you to go home.” Chevro nickered and scraped her hoof on the ground. “I know, I don’t want to leave you too, but I can’t let anything happen to Cas.” Dean leaned his forehead against hers. “I promise I’ll come back for you.” Dean was grateful for the rain masking his tears as he saw his girl disappearing in the darkness to go back home.

He turned his head up – the sky was heavy with dark gray clouds and it didn’t seem like it would ease up anytime soon. A new bolt of lightning split the darkness and Dean hugged himself, his teeth clacking continuously as he looked around for the boat Cas had told him they would use to leave. He sat next to it, and despite the clothes sticking to his frame and the gust of cold wind making his face numb, Dean found himself smiling. He pulled his legs to his chest, looking up and down the pier for a sign of Cas. Everything was dark and silent except for the large sails along the harbor flapping sharply against the winter’s wind, and the waves beating into the shore.

With each new crackling sound Dean looked up, hoping to see the icy-blue cloak he had come to meet, but each time he was faced with darkness. Dean tried to ignore the little voice at the back of his head telling him that something was wrong and that Cas wasn’t coming as a wave of panic crawled up his spine.

A set of wings made him turn his head, though his words of relief died in his tongue when he heard a second flap of wings, followed by three more. Dean threw his bags into the boat and swiftly jumped off the wooden structure, bubbles erupting all around him as he hit the water and swam to hide under the shadows of the pier. He sank all the way down to his nose and held his breath as the wooden piles creaked above his head.

Two angels made their way down the pier then left the wooden structure with a small thud and a soft flutter of their wings. Dean stopped hearing movement, but stood still despite the freezing waves licking at his body.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to pay no attention to the slimy stuff getting tangled in his legs. These angels were clearly looking for someone, _for him,_  and if that was the case then something definitely had gone wrong. Dean shuddered. The cold waters were almost impossible to bear, pressing heavily on his body and constricting every muscle in his chest, making it hard to inhale when Dean couldn’t take the burning in his lungs anymore and emerged to gasp for air. He couldn’t see who the black figures were, but if Cas wasn’t here yet, it could only mean they had found him too and Cas had been caught… or worse – killed.

The crack followed by the strong explosion of the wooden pier broke Dean’s thoughts. Large blazing logs started falling into the water, barely missing his head a few times as he tried to swim away from the wrecked construction.

The flames consuming the pier made it impossible for Dean to cover his presence as he struggled to cut through the turbulent waves.

“There he is,” someone yelled and Dean cursed when he heard the snap of wings closing in on him. A white-winged angel swept him out of the water and Dean felt like a fish for a moment, struggling in mid-air to get free from the strong hold before the angel dropped him unceremoniously on the ground.

Dean winced, coughing violently before he managed to sit up. The rain beat relentlessly on him, and Dean struggled to control the urge to hug himself and keep his body warm. He looked up, shivering uncontrollably as he watched the group of angels surrounding him.

“Hello, human,” came the cold voice. A tall angel with a large build, dark skin and piercing black eyes stepped forward.

Dean grunted, pulling himself off the ground before another angel kicked him in the back, ripping a scream out of his throat as Dean hit the wooden planks again. He took a shaky breath and propped himself up on his forearms, glancing at his attackers with a smile. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

The angel held him by the lapel of his shirt and punched his face. “You talk when we tell you to.” He punched Dean again, and again, while the rain kept pouring down on them, muffling his whimpers while each punch got rougher and more violent.

Blood stained the knuckles of the angel’s hand by time he let go of Dean. He didn’t try to get up this time. Dean lay on the cold ground watching the water fall from the sky and wash away his blood. Was this what Cas had gone through as well? Had he been able to survive? _God, please let him be alive._  Dean’s eyes blurred with tears and he remained still while they repeatedly kicked him in the stomach and he tried his best not to pass out.

“Stop!” came Michael’s stern voice. “We don’t want to kill him. This is just a warning.”

He hovered above Dean, his face as impassive as the cold, harsh rain drumming against his perfectly neat clothes.

“How?” Dean managed to rasp.

Michael shook his head. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

Water dropped heavily into his mouth and Dean clenched his jaw, swallowing the bitter aftertaste.

“Castiel told us you would be here,” Michael said quietly, barely above the rain’s roar.

“I don’t believe you,” Dean said, his voice coming out hoarse and strained.

“Then where is he?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “Why isn’t he here with you?”

Dean closed his eyes briefly before facing the angel with icy-blue eyes that would look so much like Cas’ if not for the lack of warmth in them. “You did something to him.”

“I didn’t need to do anything to my brother. Castiel merely doesn’t want to go with you, Dean.” He paused. “He never wanted to, otherwise he would be here, wouldn’t he?” Michael stepped back. “So now it’s up to me to clean up this mess before you ruin his life any further. Castiel has a great life, one he belongs to. And as for you,” he motioned for the others, “you’re going to serve your kingdom until you realize where your place is.”

The four angels pulled him up and Dean whimpered against the forced movement. They started to turn him around to leave, but his abrupt and uncontrollable laugh made them still. Dean wasn’t sure why he was laughing when, from what he understood, he was about to be sent to Micalzo’s front lines. God knew what really had happened to Cas, but it wasn’t the lies that Michael was trying to feed him.

“I know him,” Dean said, steadier than he felt. “And I know that you’ll never be able to break what we have.”

Michael tilted his head and that motion made Dean want to cry.

“You can keep me away from Cas now. But no matter how long it takes, I’ll come back to him. I will _always_ come back to him.”

“We will see about that,” Michael said, a flash of light deepening his stormy features when he snapped his fingers and a burst of grace knocked Dean down.

When Dean woke up next, he was bound to the wooden wall of an angel ship. He barely ate and only drank when he couldn’t control his body’s protests for water. Within the next weeks he reached the Kingdom of Micalzo and he passed the next three years fighting for his life so he could fulfill his promise.

_I will always come back to him._

 

 

** Present day **

Cas pulled away with a sharp exhale, his wings flaring out wildly as he got up and staggered towards the window. His erratic breathing echoed through the otherwise silent room as both of them recovered from Dean’s memory. Cas hugged himself, his shoulders sagging as he pressed his forehead to the cold glass surface.

Dean closed the space between them, tentatively reaching out for Cas to put a hand over his shoulder. “Cas?”

Cas gasped sharply and dropped to his knees, his shoulders shaking briskly as he started sobbing. Dean took a shuddering inhale and lowered himself behind Cas. The angel tensed with the first touch as Dean hugged him from behind, lips closing over Cas’ neck, gently nosing behind his ear. “It’s okay, Cas, it’s okay.”

Cas cried louder, muffled sobs stabbing at Dean’s heart as Cas fought to swallow another cry. “All these years I thought–” His voice broke through a new wave of tears. “I thought you were there by choice.” Cas shuddered, inhaling sharply before releasing a deep sob.

“Yeah, the only choice I had was whether I let the enemy kill me or not,” Dean said, holding Cas tightly. “I tried to run away… I lost count of how many times. But I was always caught. And each time the punishment got worse… after a while I was just… resigned.”

Cas turned around, face glistening under the moonlight, and Dean embraced him again, gently running his thumb over Cas’ cheeks to wipe the tears away. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” Cas choked out and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry I left you there, I failed you.”

“Hey, look at me.” Dean cradled Cas’ face in his hands, bringing Cas’ eyes up to meet him. “You didn’t fail me, my father did. He and Michael are the ones to blame for this.”

“I can’t believe they did this to us… to you. And all this time you…” He held on to Dean’s arms and clenched his jaw. “You were there fighting for your life… and here I was blaming you.” Cas paused, his breath coming out in broken gasps. “I tried– I tried so hard to hate you.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“And did you? Hate me?”

Dean huffed and shook his head. “Not even close.”

“You should. I wasn’t there for you. I wasn’t there to bring you home.”

“What matters is I’m here now and I kept my promise to Michael.”

Cas nodded and sighed. “You came back.”

“I came back to you,” Dean breathed, before kissing Cas, sweet and slow, none of the urgency from the last kiss.

Dean moaned in a hushed tone, carding his fingers through Cas’ hair before pulling their bodies together. They took their time peeling off their clothes, finding their way to bed.

“Dean,” Cas gasped breathlessly, trailing a hand down his chest, watching Dean shudder beneath his reverent fingertips.

Dean pressed their mouths together, lips moving in sync with their hands as they slowly explored one another and learned how to fit again. There were more scars to Dean’s skin, Cas’ muscles were sharper, moving down Dean’s body, finding each scar one by one: lips reaching the one beneath the hollow of Dean’s jawline, nails raking along the one on his stomach, fingers covering the scar on his hipbone or trailing the one down his left leg. Dean shivered, choking on the angel’s name as he slowly took Dean apart and soothed all his scars.

“I wish I could make them go away,” Cas whispered, voice broken.

Dean could feel his vision getting blurred, but he didn’t mind, not when he could finally have this. “You took away the deepest one,” he murmured, pulling Cas back up and putting Cas’ hand above his chest, where his heart was. “Right here.”

Cas smiled against his mouth, softly sucking at Dean’s bottom lip before whispering, “I see you’re still the same sap.” His hand found Dean’s handprint, stealing a broken exhale from his lips. Dean closed his eyes and froze.

When he opened his eyelids again, Cas was watching him, his hand pressed against the handprint and lingering there – still a perfect match.

“I thought about getting rid of it, you know?” Dean’s voice was hoarse and raw, and he took a deep breath. “To cut the skin somehow or simply burn it away. But I was never able to bring myself to do it.”

“Why not?” Castiel was watching him through the darkness, but his eyes were impossible to miss, gradually glowing brighter, filling the space between them with blue and silver shades. Dean rubbed a finger along his cheekbone, studying the way Cas’ grace colored his eyes. Dean had always clung to the memory of Cas’ lights, keeping it secured in his dreams while Dean fought for his life, like a beacon calling him home. Just like the handprint he would touch every time he wanted to feel a wisp of safety.

“Because it’s yours,” he murmured.

“What about you? Are you? Mine?” Cas asked, cheeks flushing red, his tone just as fragile and unsure as three years ago.

_Isn’t that obvious?_  Was on the tip of Dean’s tongue again, because after everything how couldn’t it be. So he cupped Cas’ face with both hands, looking hard into his eyes before whispering, “Who’s the sap now?” He captured the angel’s mouth in his with a smile and hooked a leg around Cas’ waist.

Cas laughed softly. “I’ve missed you,” he whimpered in admission at the first touch of their cocks, already hard and leaking with anticipation while Dean rolled their hips together. Cas met him at a languorous pace, little faint moans escaping his pillowy lips with each blissful brush of their erections.

Dean pulled at Cas’ hair to bring him closer, mouths hot and panting into each other as they rocked together in a desperate rhythm, rubbing their cocks furiously between their bodies. Dean quivered, swallowing Cas’ next trembling moan, his voice husky and broken when he whispered Dean’s name before closing his mouth around the hollow of Dean’s neck, eagerly sucking at the skin above the pulse.

Dean’s whole body ached as he quickly neared his orgasm. He closed his eyes, feeling each muscle in his stomach flexing uncontrollably, fire coiling thickly at his cock. “Cas, I…” Dean clasped for the black wings.

Cas snapped his hips roughly in a faltering pace, fingers pressing hard into Dean’s shoulders as he bit down at Dean’s neck. Dean threw his head back. “Cas, I’m almost–” he gasped out, eyes rolled back while he scraped his fingernails across Cas’ back.

Cas pulled back from his neck. “You can let go, Dean,” he whimpered quietly, plump flesh grazing the rim of Dean’s ear.

Dean’s next sound got caught in his throat and he was gone, back arching, high-pitched gasps escaping his mouth as he bucked his hips and came with a throaty moan.

He laced his fingers through the damp strands of Cas’ hair, tucking at it insistently. His legs wrapped around the angel and he pushed harder, his free hand finding Cas’ wing, where feathers met flesh, making the angel mewl in return.

“Come for me, baby,” Dean groaned, his voice low and strained, reaching for the angel to finish him off with his hand.

Cas writhed above Dean, his breath coming fast and short. He pulled back locking their eyes together, clutching for Dean’s hand to interlock their fingers as he tipped over the edge with a hoarse cry.

They were both panting, Cas beautifully limp on top of him, breathing soft little whimpers into Dean’s skin while they both recovered from their orgasm.

Dean was lulled back to sleep with Cas tiredly planting tiny kisses along his neck and shoulder. “Sleep,” Cas said, voice barely a whisper. “I will watch over you.”

 

 

When Dean woke up, there was still a glorious, buck naked angel nestled against his chest. He brushed Cas’ wings, kissing his temple when the angel stirred.

“Mornin’.”

“No.” Cas nuzzled against his neck, narrowing his wings around them. _Well, at least that didn’t change._  Dean chuckled.

“C’mon, you lazy ass, some of us need to work.”

“Stay,” Cas mumbled sleepily.

“Can’t, baby.” Dean kissed him soundly before pulling away. “I’m already late for work. Bobby is gonna kill me.”

Cas rose his head without fully opening his eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s past lunch time,” Dean said, putting on the clothes from the day before, not bothering to search for clean ones. “So, like I said, Bobby is probably waiting for me with a butcher knife.”

Cas jumped from his spot, suddenly wide awake as well. “I need to go. Michael wants to discuss our next move against Lucifer.”

“Is it getting bad again?”

Cas nodded. “Lucifer is gathering a large amount of troops. We believe he is preparing a major attack soon.”

Dean scratched his head, reaching for Cas’ hand on instinct.

“And they’re also waiting for me to show up for the marriage preparations,” Cas continued, looking more pained at his own words than Dean felt.

Dean stilled. _Shit, the marriage._  And just like that Dean’s happy bubble was broken.

“Right.”

Cas shuffled around the room gathering his clothes.

“You’re not getting married anymore… Right?” Dean couldn’t help the despair in his voice.

Cas stopped in the middle of fastening his cloak around his shoulders; he drew near, raising his hand to cradle Dean’s face. “Until a day ago I had my life sorted out… I was going to marry, I was never going to see you again and that was it.”

Dean swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I g-get it,” Dean stammered, forcing a smile. “You have your life now. And a bride waiting for you back at the castle.”

“What? No. No, it’s not like that.” Castiel shook his head. “That is not the kind of marriage Hannah and I had agreed on.” He swallowed before continuing. “The only reason I’ve even agreed to this marriage was because I got to know her first through letters and I grew fond of her, _as a friend._  We’ve talked often, I’ve told her about you.”

Dean snapped his head up at Cas. “Y-you did?”

“Yes, I’ve told her Michael was pressuring me to marry. But I couldn’t, I just, not after you.”

“Cas...” Dean trailed off, unsure what to say. How could he express everything bursting from his chest right now? The way his soul rumbled in contentment hearing those words, because even though Dean already knew Cas wasn’t marrying because he wanted someone else, it felt amazing have it confirmed. Dean covered Cas’ hand with his and pulled him closer, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

Cas melted into him and draped his arms around Dean’s shoulders. “She wanted to escape her rigid father, and I didn’t want a wife, but I didn’t mind having another friend around so we decided to do this. Just two friends helping each other.”

Cas sighed breathlessly and pecked Dean on the lips. “So being here, with you in my arms.” They kissed again at a lazy pace before Cas pulled away reluctantly, just enough to look Dean in the eyes. “That’s all I want. I just need to sort out everything else.”

Dean pressed his forehead against Cas’ and smiled softly. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Our place,” Cas choked out. “Meet me there in three days, just before the sunset. I will be there.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded and kissed Cas one last time before the angel turned away and left.

There was a fluttering feeling of happiness inside Dean that felt too big for his body. He flung himself on the bed facing the ceiling. It had been three years since the last time he had felt like this. It was scary, having this hope right back into his heart, because nothing good in Dean’s life ever lasted.

But still he closed his eyes, and hoped to see the angel in three days smiling back at Dean, wings shuffling softly in the wind, a soft blush reaching his cheeks with the promise of a future that was three years late.

 

 

Three days later Dean waited for Cas by their secret place just as the angel had asked. He sat by the green and freckled wisteria tree and watched the clusters casually dancing in the wind.

Dean plucked at the grass, hearing the river lazily splashing against the rocks while he counted the different flowers and watched the once cheerful blooms gradually filling with sorrow as time slowly went by with no sign of Castiel.

A sickening realization slowly made its way into the pit of his stomach and Dean bit his quivering lip, trying to ignore the sudden melancholy sitting heavy in his chest. It was happening all over again.

For the past three years there had been a strange kind of comfort in the dark hollow that had filled Dean; he had given himself the privilege of feeling nothing, learning how to ignore his emotions, and he had been pretty damn good at it. But in just weeks, Cas had crumbled down his walls, tugging at his heart, bit by little bit with swelling hope.

And now Dean was right back at this aching moment, just like three years ago. Cas had promised to meet him just to leave him stranded.

Gripping his legs, Dean buried his head between his knees, slowly breathing in and out, until the sting of tears was no longer there to remind him how lonely he truly was.

Dean didn’t know how long after that he fell asleep, but it was a numbing welcome.

 

 

The sun had long started to sink on the horizon when he heard the flap of wings that instantly hasted his heartbeat. He turned around, but instead of Cas, Gabriel greeted him with a somber expression. Dean immediately knew something was wrong.

“What happened?”

“It’s your brother,” Gabriel said in a rush. “There was an explosion at your parents’ house, he’s hurt badly.”

Dean was running before his mind could catch up to his legs, but Gabriel stopped him before he could reach Chevro.

“There’s something else too… Your father. He’s dead.”


	17. Chapter 17

** Present day **

Dean didn’t know what made the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach worse: Sam’s blood-curdling wails tearing through the room, or the sight of the bed beneath him soaked in red. Sam arched off the bed again, his head whipping back and forth in agony as he struggled to breathe.

There had been an explosion, Sam and Dad had been working on something in their parents’ basement and everything had gone terribly wrong. No one knew what exactly had happened, but the explosion was so severe it was sheer luck the whole house hadn’t been destroyed in the process, injuring Mary along with them.

_Luck,_ Dean huffed, muffling another traitorous sob. His father was dead. His body had been burned so badly it was almost unrecognizable when Mary had gotten downstairs right after the blast. She had immediately called Gabriel, and Bobby who had taken upon himself to take care of John’s body and move it to his own house. Gabriel had focused his attention on Sam, using his grace to heal the most lethal wounds. Gabriel had been on it for hours when he called it off before he would drain his grace and kill himself in the process. That’s when he had come to find Dean.

“Hey.” Jess touched Dean’s arm on the way in, a bowl of clean water in her hands. “Gabe can handle this, okay? He’s been healing Sam in stages - sometimes it’s like a bomb going off, it’s that powerful - and each time Sam gets better.”

“Really? ‘Cause Sam doesn’t look so hot.”

“Trust me, this is better.” She turned away and headed to the bed.

Dean stood frozen in the doorway while both the angel, Jess and Mary worked to stop the worst of the bleeding. Sam clutched feverishly at the sheets, his eyes shut tight as he broke off in the middle of the next scream to choke on blood. Dean tensed, his fingers digging into the doorframe in a white-knuckled grip. A sour taste burned in the back of his throat, and the buzzing in his ears was so loud he barely registered the sound of someone knocking urgently at the front door downstairs.

“Dean.” Mary stepped in front of him, using her dress to wipe the blood from her hands and blocking Dean’s view of his brother. “Go see who is at the door, son. It’s probably Bobby or Ellen coming to help us.”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Course,” Dean muttered and turned, taking one last glance over his shoulder. Gabriel had his eyes squeezed shut, hands hovering above Sam’s body, his brow furrowed in concentration as another explosion of grace went off.

Dean went downstairs and opened the door to reveal a disheveled and out of breath Castiel; his hair was a mess and there were large dark circles under his eyes. “Dean, I–”

“Go away,” Dean interrupted ungraciously.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m busy, Cas, just–” Dean closed his eyes, he couldn’t deal with this right now, not with his brother dying on the upper floor. “Just go.”

Another scream broke off from upstairs, making Cas tear his eyes from Dean and follow the sounds he was trying to recognize. “What’s going on?” A second voice joined the first as Gabriel cried out in sudden agony above them. Cas tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Dean. “My brother is here?”

“It’s Sammy,” Dean provided. “He’s dying, Cas,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the last word.

Castiel went past him without another word and headed upstairs. Dean stood at the doorway; the first night of June unfolded outside with a steady rumble, and the soft breeze touched Dean’s skin with a warm promise of summer. It was so peaceful, quiet, Dean wished he could drown in it.

The next searing screams snapped Dean out of his daze. He slammed the door shut and followed the turmoil.

When Dean got upstairs Cas was standing next to Gabriel and inspecting Sam. “What happened?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Jessica said, wiping away a wave of silent tears. “There was an explosion. John died. And Sam is…” she trailed off, struggling to find the proper words to finish.

“John is dead?” Cas looked at Dean and he clenched his jaw in return.

Gabriel’s hiss stole Cas’ attention back to him. “You can rest now, brother. I will take it from here.”

“No, it’s too dangerous for you,” Gabe objected.

“I can do this, Gabriel,” Cas reassured, encouraging him to lower his hands.

“If you can’t control yourself… Sam’s soul is very vulnerable right now.” Gabriel shook his head.

Dean watched in silence as the two angels argued. Gabriel looked like he was about to collapse; it had taken most of his grace to repair the worst wounds and Dean wasn’t sure how long he could keep going like this.

“Please, Gabriel, trust me.”

“If you lose control… You could kill us all.”

“I won’t let that happen. I’m strong enough, I can do it.”

“Gabe!” All four heads turned to Dean who was still at the entrance of the room. “Please,” Dean whispered, his voice quivering as he moved his gaze from those light brown eyes to pure blues, watching him unwavering. Dean knew there was a risk but he trusted Cas… even with his little brother’s soul and life.

Gabriel nodded slowly and let Cas take his place at the edge of the bed. Cas put both hands on Sam’s chest and stilled, his whole body tensing at once. He glanced at Dean as his eyes changed into brighter shades of blue, a warning on his lips. “Close your eyes,” he yelled over the sudden flurry of winds.

They all closed their eyes as a crisp and resounding explosion painted the whole room in blue and silver, almost knocking Dean off his feet in the process. He held on to the doorway, fingernails scratching the wood as a new blow forced his feet backwards and smashed some of the furniture on the floor.

Dean could hear two voices screaming – his brother’s tone, mixed with Cas’ guttural one, reverberating off the walls. Dean tightened his grip, feeling the wood splitting, inch by inch, beneath his fingers as the noise got impossibly louder, tormenting and raw, winds twisting and clattering against him, setting off shivers all over his skin.

Then it all stopped. The air was heavy with silence as Cas’ lights faded out.

Dean slowly cracked his eyes open. Jess and his mother were hugging to protect themselves from the blast. Gabe was on the other side of the room on the spare chair, eyelids drooped, body limp as if at any second he was going to pass out.

Dean’s eyes landed on the bed: Cas had his hands splayed open over the now perfectly healed body of his brother. Dean stepped closer, none of the chaos from before tarnishing the room. Sam was lying still, sleeping peacefully, his pained expression gone.

“How is he?” Jess asked.

Castiel lowered his hands to his side. “He will be fine,” he said, voice strained and weary as he managed to give her a brief smile.

Jess lay down on the bed with a sigh of relief; she caressed Sam’s cheeks and let her tears run free against his shoulder. She glanced up at Cas and managed to smile back. “Thank you, Castiel.”

Castiel drew in a shaky breath and closed his eyes, his wings going boneless at his sides as he staggered backwards and collapsed to the floor with a loud thud.

“Cas.” Dean was on his knees and by the angel’s side in a heartbeat. He cradled Cas in his arms, a hand pressed against his cheek to hold Cas’ face up to him firmly. “Wake up!” He pressed on, more urgently, shaking Cas slightly. “C’mon, man, not you too. Sammy and Dad are enough for one goddamn day, okay?”

Castiel fluttered his eyes open, the small slits of blue coming into focus and meeting Dean’s green ones. “Hey, Cas,” Dean whispered, voice breaking around the words.

Castiel smiled at him, reaching for Dean to cup his cheek. “Hello.”

Dean released a breath of relief. “Do you think you can get up?”

Cas nodded. “I can try.”

Dean slid Cas’ arm over his shoulder and dragged the angel to his feet along with him. Cas clutched at his shirt for support and Dean instinctively wrapped his arms around him, not quite meeting those cerulean eyes. Dean needed to focus on his family now, and Cas… he had made a choice by not showing up to their meeting, and whatever the explanation was, Dean wasn’t ready to face that yet. Especially not with his little brother lying motionless on a bed and his father dead.

“We should let Sammy sleep,” Mary broke the silence and pointed to the angels. “And these two should get some rest as well.” She turned to Jessica and held her hand to her. “Jess, honey, help me get Gabriel to our guest room.” Jessica lifted her head from where it was resting on Sam’s chest, wiped away the fresh tears and accepted her hand.

“I appreciate the help, ladies, but I think I can manage by myself.” Gabriel propelled himself off the chair and immediately stumbled forward, nearly managing to fall on his face if not for the two women who grabbed hold of him.

“Yeah, clearly,” Dean said in his most sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes for emphasis.

“Shut it, Bozo.”

Dean chuckled while the other three left the room, leaving him and Castiel behind. He turned to Cas who was watching him back with drowsy eyes; he was warm and soft against Dean’s side, small puffs of air escaping his lips and filling Dean’s skin with shivers, and Dean just wanted to bask in it, to let that feeling flood through him until everything was all right again. Even if it was just an illusion. Dean looked away and cleared his throat, dragging them out of the bedroom. “Let’s go, you can sleep in my bed.”

“There’s no need f–”

“Shut up, Cas. You’re weak. Rest for tonight and tomorrow you can go and do… whatever that was.” Dean entered his old bedroom and carried Castiel to the bed.

The angel moaned as he climbed into the mattress, a frown of distress creasing his features while Dean helped him lie down and pulled the sheets around him. Castiel looked up at him through heavy eyelids; he opened his mouth, but Dean turned around and left the room before Cas could say anything that would make him stay.

Dean closed the door shut behind him and leaned back on it, sinking down to the floor. His head hurt and he blinked his eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. He lingered there for a while – arms wrapped around his legs while he sat in the darkness with only his thoughts to keep him company. His father was gone. His brother had barely managed to survive. And Dean hadn’t been there for them. He had been pursuing a doomed dream, too blinded by it to see what was happening right in front of him, to see that his family had needed him.

He should have paid more attention to all the clues. Something had been wrong with his brother for quite some time now and if Dean had tried harder to find out what Sammy and Dad were doing each time they locked themselves in their mother’s basement… perhaps then Dean could have saved them.

Dean wiped the stray tear that fell down his cheek. He rested his head on the wooden surface behind him and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he decided to get up and go check up on his family.

Dean stopped in front of his brother’s old bedroom where Sammy was sleeping. Jess had returned to his side and was now stroking Sam’s hair lovingly, whispering soft words Dean couldn’t decipher. Dean stepped back and pulled the door behind him, leaving only a small gap open. He followed the clanking noise downstairs to find his mother in the kitchen, washing the dishes.

“Have you seen this mess?” she said with her back turned to him. “With everything that happened I didn’t have time to clean anything.”

Dean walked around the kitchen island to where his mother stood by the sink. “Mom, you don’t have to worry about it, we can take care of this tomorrow.”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently and kept cleaning with sudden, harsh movements.

“You need to rest.” Dean touched his mother’s hands, carefully stopping her movements.

“No,” she repeated, a soft sob getting caught in her throat. Mary let go of the dishes and grabbed onto the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white while she tilted her head down to keep Dean from seeing the tears that were now running freely.

“Mom…” His voice was weak and fragile, and Dean felt like a child all over again as he turned his mother around and pulled her into his arms.

“No,” she continued mumbling, over and over again, like a prayer, like somehow that would make everything go away.

Dean held on to her with a strong grasp, afraid that somehow if he let go, he would lose her too. Mary gripped back just as hard, sobs ripping through her body and making her shake uncontrollably in Dean’s hold.

“We will get through this, Mom,” Dean croaked, burying his head in his mother’s neck. “I promise you, I won’t let anything else happen to our family. I promise.”

She leaned back to look him in the eye. “I believe you, Dean,” she murmured, voice cracking through her tears while she stroked his face. “I always have.” She smiled, a sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes and Dean brushed his thumb along the corner of her eye, as if he could magically bring back those laugh lines that used to illuminate Mary’s face with happiness.

She wiped away her tears and turned to the dishes again.

“Mom, stop.”

“Please.” Mary looked at him with pleading eyes. “At least this I can do. At least this I can fix. So, please.” She closed her eyes and took one shuddering breath. “Just let me do it.”

Something inside Dean broke and he nodded, feeling his eyes blurring for a moment. “All right,” he conceded after a moment, pulling up his sleeves and joining his mother.

They cleaned in methodical silence, with the water hushing the noise of washing dishes.

 

 

Dean had been in his father’s office for a few hours when he heard a loud knock on the front door. He was too busy drinking all the cheap alcohol his father had possessed to care enough to open it.

He leaned back in the comfortable armchair that his father used to love so much. John used to tell him how much he had paid for it; the chair was the most expensive furniture he had in the office. Dean never understood why someone would spend so much money on a fucking chair, but right now, while drinking himself into oblivion, he had to give it to the old man. He closed his eyes; with the chair lulling his body and the alcohol numbing his mind, Dean was set for the night.

The knock on the office’s door ruined his perfect plans.

Dean groaned. “Whaaat?”

The door opened slightly and Bobby’s head peeked through the breach. “Can I come in, son?”

“Yeah, suuure.”

Bobby entered the room and stopped in front of the desk, looking down at all the empty bottles with a sigh. “I turn around for one goddamn minute and you and your brother manage to get yourself into another mess.”

“Hmmm, don’t forget Dad.” Dean hiccupped before continuing. “That one was always up to n-no good.”

“Yeah,” Bobby scoffed. “Messed up bastard.” He grabbed a bottle and poured himself a glass of whiskey, drinking the whole thing at once before filling the glass again.

“M-messed up being th’key word.” Dean gave him a sardonic smile and leaned forward, putting his arm on the desk to steady himself. “What isn’t messed up nowadays, huh? Dad is deaddd. Sammy,” another hiccup, “almost dead too. And me,” he paused and looked at his almost empty glass. “Well, gimme some time.” Dean swallowed the remaining of his drink.

“Yeah, yeah. I had figured that already.” Bobby put down his drink. “So what are ya gonna do now, boy?”

“You’re seeing me doin’ it.”

“Drinking yourself into a damn coma ain’t fixing your problems, Dean.”

Dean leaned closer and whispered, “Watch me.” He grabbed another bottle and drank directly from it.

Bobby got up and ripped the bottle out of Dean’s hands. “I know you’re hurting but this.” He shook the bottle. “This won’t help you.” He pulled Dean from the chair and dragged him out of the office.

“What ya doin’ Bobby?” Dean tried to pull away. “Lemme go.”

“You need to sleep.” They paused at the bottom of the stairs “And I know there’s an angel waiting for you upstairs.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby stopped him.

“I know you’re angry at him. But right now, you should be with the ones you love. Not locked away in your dad’s office with bottles and alcohol to keep ya company.”

“I don’t wanna...” Dean mumbled, but Bobby interrupted him again and pushed him towards the first steps of the stairs.

“Look, whatever happened between you and Cas… He’s here, with you, instead of with his kind. How I see it, that’s gotta count for somethin’.”

Dean was too drunk to argue so he wobbled his way upstairs even though he was resolved not to sleep in his bedroom tonight. He was only going to clean up, grab a change of clothes and leave.

“Dean?” Cas’ sleepy voice called out as soon as he opened the door.

“Just getting m’ clothes and I’m leavin’. Sleep.” Dean entered the room without sparing a look at the bed and went straight to the bathroom.

Dean stumbled a few times, but managed to take a piss before washing his face with warm water. He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself on the edge of the sink, the slow drops of water running down his face and neck, clearing his mind a bit. He sighed with a quiet sob before drying his face and looking at his reflection in the mirror. _Get it together, Winchester,_  he scolded himself.

Once he emerged from the bathroom, Castiel was already up and preparing to leave.

“Whaddaya doing?” Dean rasped.

“I will sleep on the sofa. You’re tired and I do not wish to keep you away from your own bed.”

“Don’t be s-stupid. I can sleep downstairs just fine. I would say I’ll meet ya tomorrow, but we both know how that always ends, right?”

Castiel stopped mid-motion and glared at Dean. “This is not up for discussion, Dean. You are sleeping here,” he said in a strained voice.

“F-fine,” Dean snapped back. “But you’re stayin’ too.” He pointed and motioned from Cas to the bed. “S’put your ass back on the bed.”

The angel huffed deeply before doing as he was told without a word. Dean lay down on the other side of the bed, his soft sheets a welcome relief to his spent body. He sighed and sank his head on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to see what Cas was doing on his half of the bed.

Dean’s loud hiccup broke the heavy silence.

“You’re drunk.”

“No shit.”

Dean felt Cas’ fingers gently brushing against his arm. “I can help with that.” Cas’ hand glowed against Dean’s skin until some of the fuzziness in Dean’s mind cleared out. Dean closed his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep, but the soft breaths coming from the angel next to him were too damn distracting.

“Dean?”

“Where were you?” he blurted, finally looking at the angel. Cas was lying on his side, watching Dean back in the darkness, his blue eyes looking brighter under the moonlight and the shadows surrounding them. “I waited for you, Cas! And you didn’t show up. Again!” Dean pulled himself back up, unable to keep himself still. “Meanwhile my father and brother needed me and there I was being left behind by you, again. Having my heart broken, _again!_ ”

“I didn’t leave you today, Dean, I was just late. And I certainly didn’t leave you three years ago.” The amount of pain that was visible on Cas’ face made Dean look away.

“Oh yeah? Cause I just had a sort of weird déjà vu today. Minus the getting beat up senseless by a crap ton of angels.”

“Dean, can I expl–”

“It’s like my life is a never-ending loop of watching you leave or not show up at all. I never get the chance to watch you come back… to me.”

“I did!” Cas sat up, their bodies close enough to raise goosebumps all over Dean’s skin. His wing was light on Dean’s back in a timid caress as the angel repeated, softer this time, “I did, Dean. But it’s been three years! Three years of my life blaming you and trying to build a life for myself. And I needed to deal with that before I could commit myself to you. My life has been upside-down all over again ever since you’ve returned. And it took me a little longer to sort everything out.”

“You mean to sort out your feelings for me?”

“No.” Cas shook his head sadly. “No, those have been clear ever since the day I’ve met you. But everything else: the people expecting me to marry. Hannah’s family. And Michael… If he was able to do what he did three years ago to keep us apart, I was afraid of what he might do to you now.”

Dean shook his head. “Sammy fixed things with your brother, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“How can I not?” Cas tentatively brushed his hand along Dean’s arm. “When I just got you back.”

Dean looked away, not able to meet those cerulean eyes. “You could have gotten me back a long time ago…” Dean whispered, watching the ceiling. “I keep waiting for you, Cas. Three years ago, today, all the time in between. You say you came back to me… so where were you all these years? What made you change your mind?” His voice came out as a murmur breaking at the edges, and Dean blinked away the tears. “What did I do to make you give up on me?”

“Oh, Dean.” Cas’ hand found Dean’s old handprint; his fingers brushed over the tender skin through the single layer of clothes, lingering there for a moment and prompting Dean to close his eyes. Cas cupped his cheek and whispered, “Let me show you how I never did.”

 

 

** Three years ago **

Castiel had never been keen on lying, especially not to his family, but if he wanted to be rational about this, and Cas was a rational being, this was a necessary lie. _Certainly._

Dean was right – what Michael wanted of him was too much for Castiel’s shoulders. He couldn’t do what his brother expected of him, he _couldn’t be_  what his brother wanted. And as much as Cas wanted to help his family and his kingdom, he couldn’t ignore the fear he had seen in Dean’s eyes when he had asked Cas to run away with him, the way his voice broke when he held Cas tightly to him, and the sigh that immediately followed Cas’ steady, “Yes!” That was enough reason for Castiel to make his choice.

Castiel hurriedly packed the rest of his clothes in his duffle bag and waited until everyone in the castle had gone to sleep before slipping out of his bedroom. The walls looked cold and eerie at this time of night, but Castiel didn’t have trouble finding his way through the castle. Even in the dim lights that illuminated the corridors Cas would be able to do it with his eyes closed if he had to, after so many years of roaming around the castle he had learned to call home. But calling this home right now didn’t carry the same truth it once did, not without Dean’s sandy hair and earthy smell, his freckles that reminded Cas of the stars. Nowadays, _Dean_ was Castiel’s home.

It didn’t take long to reach the outside and leave the old castle walls behind. As much as Cas couldn’t help the sadness sagging in his chest with his departure, breathing in the cold night’s air wasn’t as dreadful tonight, not with Dean waiting for him on the other side of the town by the harbor.

Castiel ventured into the shadows of the forest, needing to distance himself by foot before he could take flight, or he would risk being seen by someone in the castle. Once he was far enough, Cas stretched out his wings and looked at the sky, thinking about the new life he was about to start with Dean, and felt freer than ever.

Perhaps his euphoric state prevented him from perceiving the group following him in the darkness, or perhaps Cas’ reflexes were rustier than he thought. He never saw the sharp object that hit the back of his head, or the heavy punch that followed. His duffle bag fell loudly to the ground and Castiel grunted, a wave of dizziness running through his body as blood poured from his head. He turned around to face his aggressors, hand already ready to aim an explosion of grace at whoever had dared to attack him.

A new shape loomed over him, but before Cas’ eyes had even begun to glow with power, the sharp blade of a black sword plunged through his stomach. Castiel gasped in surprise – he had been stabbed before, but this felt different. He didn’t feel a thing at first, then all he could think of was the cold invading his body as the blade started to shine. The sudden surge of searing white pain made him whimper and he hit the ground with a loud thud.

Castiel looked at the sword still impaling him in shock, the corners of his eyes stinging as recognition finally hit him – the poisoned sword – Enochian symbols engraved along a blade that turned red when touched by blood. This sword was so deadly to angels even Michael was terrified of it. The blade shone beneath the moonlight as Cas’ blood poured out of him and made it glow a vivid red. He touched the blade. It burned beneath his fingers and a new gasp escaped his lips as the blade was ripped from his body only to be plunged back in.

Cas cried out and raised his hand in a frail attempt to retaliate, but was stopped by another punch. The world moved as he turned his head and coughed; the blood was thick and metallic in his mouth and left a dark wet stain on the ground. The blade left him again, but there was no relief to it. The group of strangers took turns kicking him, while the trees grew darker and life was drained out of him. With his vision coming in and out of focus Cas faced the sky, wishing he could have reached it.

His attackers left. Cas shivered and whimpered into the deserted woods, trying to control the short shallow breaths escaping through his blood stained lips. At some point he closed his eyes and let the tears run free; there were no shooting stars tonight, no point in making wishes, but still Cas wished, before giving up on trying to stop the bleeding gash on his stomach with his hands or keep his heart from slowing down. He wished because he had always been a dreamer – his life was filled with dreams of bright stars, deep oceans, endless skies… and green eyes, with speckles of freckles and a smile that could make anyone believe.

So Cas wished upon an empty sky, _Let him find happiness in my absence, don’t let him suffer when I’m gone. Dean… Dean… I love you. I love you, Dean._

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

** Three years ago **

Castiel woke up with a start only to be faced with the soft, warm linen sheets of his bed and a sweet, pungent aroma hitting his olfactory senses. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and slowly cracked them open.

“Welcome back, my darling.” Mrs. Moseley was the first thing to come into focus when his sight cleared. She smiled down at him. “I knew you couldn’t resist my red velvet cake.”

“Uhh.” Castiel did his best to form a coherent word, but his tongue felt too thick in his dry mouth. He swallowed the bitter taste and settled for another hum, making a quick inspection of his surroundings.

“Well, well now, take it easy.” Mrs. Moseley put a gentle hand over his chest to coax him back into his pillow. “How about I give you some soup first? If your stomach can take that, we can try giving you some cake.” She helped him sit up against the headboard and held a spoon to his mouth.

Castiel’s stomach grumbled as he ingested food for the first time in– he didn’t remember how long it had been. His brain started skimming the latest events – Cas was leaving, he had entered the forest, someone attacked him and there was… there was a sword… _the poisoned sword._

 _Dean!_ Castiel jumped, knocking down the bowl of soup in the process. He needed to make sure Dean was all right. “I need to see him!”

“See who?” Mrs. Moseley tried to send him back to the bed, but the shot of adrenaline gave him enough strength to attempt to push himself off. “Please, son, if it’s Gabriel you’re talking about I’ll call him. No need to do anything foolish.”

Castiel took a few unsteady steps before his legs buckled under him and he hit the floor with a loud thud. He moaned in frustration as Mrs. Moseley’s gentle hands landed on his shoulders. “See?” She slid his arm around her carefully and helped him back up, supporting most of his weight as Cas dragged himself to his bed. Castiel heaved a sigh and leaned back against the pillow. “Your body isn’t strong enough after such a long period of bed rest,” Mrs. Moseley said and attempted to clean up the mess Cas had done.

Castiel frowned. “Long time? What do you–”

“Baby bro!” Gabriel burst inside with his arms wide open. “You’re up! Finally, you lazy bum,” he said with a smirk before hugging Castiel tightly. After a first instant of surprise, Cas huffed and wrapped his arms around his brother. When they let go, Castiel was almost certain his brother’s eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, but before he could be sure Gabriel got up, turning away briefly. “How’s he doing?”

“Good.” Mrs. Moseley smiled. “I was just giving him some soup before he got a little agitated.”

“Um.” Gabriel turned back at Castiel. “You need to eat. To get your strength back.”

Castiel shook his head. “I need to see Dean. He is waiting for me.”

“What?” Gabriel paled a little and his face contorted with something Castiel couldn’t quite identify. “No, Cas…”

“Take me to him, please,” he insisted; his voice was thick and cracked at the end, but he pressed on. “Dean must be waiting, I was supposed to–”

“You don’t need to worry about that right now, okay?” Gabriel smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and Cas’ grace started quivering in his chest.

“We were meant to meet and now I’m late.” Cas hands were shaking and he clutched at the sheets to keep them still. “And he must be there waiting and I’m–”

Gabriel put his hands on his shoulders to stop his fresh attempts at getting up. “Please, Cas, stop. He’s not waiting… Dean is–”

“No!” Cas shook his head. Whatever the end of that sentence was, Cas didn’t want to hear it. “We were leaving together, I need to get to him–”

“Cas!” Gabriel shook his shoulders sharply. “He’s not going to be there. Not anymore… Whatever you were supposed to do… That was eight months ago.”

“W-what?” His voice wavered, heart hammering in his chest while he stared at his brother in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“You were hurt, Cas. Badly. Eight months ago. You’ve been in a coma ever since.”

“No, that can’t be.” His voice sounded small and Castiel looked down, trying to make sense of the information. “I… I need to talk to him! Dean must be so worried.”

“Dean is not in the kingdom anymore.” Gabriel paused with a sigh. “He left.”

“He what?” Cas could feel his throat constricting with panic and he pushed the sheets away from him, stumbling as he stood up again. “No, you must be mistaken!”

“Cas, please.” Gabriel tried to hold him down.

Castiel shoved him away and gathered enough balance to push forward, ignoring the sickening lurch in his stomach that made him sway on his legs. “I need to see him!” Cas insisted, his hands balled into fists as he attempted to move past his brother.

“He left!” Gabriel blocked the way and held down his arms.

“Let me see him!” he yelled, wiping the tears running down his cheeks and ignoring his body’s protests, his muscles twitching and searing as Cas fought against his brother’s restraint.

“Stop it.” Gabriel tried to block Cas’ punches, and despite his weakened state, Castiel didn’t stop hitting his brother’s chest until his legs collapsed under him and they both fell to their knees.

“Let me go!”

“He’s not there! He left… Dean left, Cas,” Gabriel said sadly, but Cas didn’t listen; there was a dull ache in his chest, slowly consuming the air in his lungs. New tears swelled in his eyes as he choked on air and his surroundings closed in on him. He needed to move. His grace thudded angrily in his chest, trying to leave the confinement of this faulty body and meet the soul waiting for him outside.

“You are wrong.” Castiel shook his head, ignoring the hands around his shoulders pulling him into Gabriel’s embrace. “You are wrong,” he repeated weakly and closed his eyes. The whole room was fuzzy and going dark. _Breathe, breathe,_  he could hear in the distance. Cas released a muted gasp. His chest felt tight and his throat on fire, and Cas willed his heart not to cease beating. A prickling sensation covered his arms and soon his whole body was shaking feverishly. Then, just like that, it was over.

The last image in Cas’ mind before he lost his consciousness was Dean at the edge of the sea, waiting for what would never come to be. _I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry._

 

 

Castiel opened his eyes again to Gabriel’s worried expression. “Hey, welcome back,” he said with a small smile.

Cas was back in his bed, tucked beneath the warm sheets; he wasn’t shaking anymore but his chest felt just as heavy and his head was pounding incessantly. He grunted and sat up, bursts of pain shooting through his body from the recent abuse.

“How’re you feeling? Any urge to punch me again? Should I step away?” Gabriel’s smile widened.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Castiel mumbled.

Gabriel raised a spoon of soup in front of his mouth, but Cas pressed his lips together in defiance. “What happened to–”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Gabriel interrupted. “You eat one spoon of this delicious soup that Mrs. Moseley prepared for you and I’ll answer one question.”

“Gabe.”

“Deal?”

Cas groaned and slumped against his pillow, taking the hateful spoon without another word.

“Great,” Gabriel smiled. “Now, shoot.”

“Where is Dean?”

“He is on the front lines. From what I’ve been told, he’s currently stationed at the most southern part of the Kingdom of Micalzo.”

Cas drew in a shaky breath against the biting shivers running down his spine. “That’s not possible… When did–”

“Nuh uh.” Gabriel swayed the spoon Castiel was quickly learning to despise back and forth in front of his face. Castiel sighed and opened his mouth and let his brother feed him.

“When did he go?”

“Right about the same time you got knocked out.”

Castiel swallowed the soreness in his throat and reached for the cup on the bedside table, drinking the water in one gulp. “That can’t be right. We had arranged to meet and leave together.”

“Well, he obviously didn’t get the memo.”

“Gabe, I hardly think this is the appropriate time to joke. We need to find him, something horribly wrong must have happened. If I’m in this state, I can only assume Dean is also–”

“It was a scam!” Gabriel hastily interrupted him.

Castiel sucked in a sharp breath. “I– I do not understand.”

“Dean used you. He wanted to join the army and go fight Lucifer. That was his goal all along.”

“You are mistaken,” Cas gritted through clenched teeth.

“He told me so himself. Fight some _feathered asses._ ” Gabriel stood up, slowly raising his head to the sunlight beaming through the window until his cheeks turned a slight shade of red.

It was a beautiful, warm day of late August outside; the last time Castiel had watched the sky, dark clouds covered the stars and frost bit sharply at his skin. “It’s actually my fault, you know?” Gabriel continued. “I accidentally gave him that idea.” He turned to face Castiel again. “That he needed an angel if he wanted to get anywhere near Micalzo. I assume when he learned that you were no longer useful to him, he went with another angel or perhaps he went on his own, who even cares? _I don’t._ ”

“No…” Castiel shook his head. “We planned it so we could run away from the war and… and my brother and his father. That was the reason. Dean despised the war, he didn’t wish for it.”

“Oh, really? When did he suggest you should run away?” Gabriel stepped forward, taking the plate of soup to feed Castiel once more. “Maybe after Sam and Jess’ marriage reception? Remember? At the Roadhouse? That’s when we had that conversation.”

“He…” His stomach twisted in knots and Cas swallowed thickly. “We started courting each other much earlier than that.”

“Oh, really? Cause none of you ever told me about it. I assumed, of course, but I didn’t know for sure. Did _anyone_ know?”

“Some people knew, yes, I’m–”

“Did Sam? Did his mother? Did Dean ever tell anyone?”

“No, but that’s because Dean was afraid both of them would be in danger if they knew.”

“Right…”

“Look, Gabriel, I know you’re trying to protect me, but Dean isn’t the person you think he is. He wouldn’t do that, he… He cares about me.”

Gabriel put down the plate and got up. “Dean told me he wanted to enlist and that’s what he did, Cas. I’m so sorry, but that’s the truth.”

“You’re wrong…”

Gabriel shook his head no and went back to the window. “After what happened to you and Dean’s disappearance, I tried to track him, and once I got news from my connections that he was indeed out there fighting, I didn’t look any further.” He leaned against the wide mahogany window frame, staring down at the main street filled with angels roaming around and basking in the warm sunny day outside. “I never told his family about it, I didn’t want to break their hearts even more. He didn’t say anything about it in the letter he left to his brother, so I gathered I shouldn’t say anything either. It’s better if they think he’s making a good life for himself in some quiet place.”

“Then why are you telling me?” Cas’ voice broke. “Why are you breaking mine?”

Gabriel rushed to his side, cradling Cas’ face between his hands. “Because, little brother, I love you and I know you. I know you won’t rest until you find him, and you deserve to know the truth about what he has done.”

Castiel moved his lips in a sad smile, watching his brother through unshed tears. “I love him, Gabe. I will find him either way, and he’s not where you think he is. He’s not _who_ you think he is.”

“Then you go find him, but I would start by looking at the army camps stationed close to the front lines, because that’s where he is.”

Gabriel grabbed the plate again with a sigh and turned to him with the spoon ready with more soup. Castiel took hold of Gabe’s hand as another wave of nausea ran down his body. “I’m not hungry.”

 

 

The first time Castiel saw himself in the mirror he repressed a shudder. He looked as bad as he felt – thin, pale and dark circles under his eyes. He lifted up his shirt and touched the scar left by the poisoned sword.

Even though the rest of his body had healed completely along with his grace, the laceration left by the sword had not been as easy to mend. The wound had become infected over the months he had been bedbound and the feverish nights had been a constant as well as the hallucinations.

Now though, the cut had acquired a soft shade of pink. The scar would always stay as a reminder, but Castiel couldn’t complain. Everyone said it was a miracle that he had survived – most angels didn’t make it past the first night and live to tell the horrors of overcoming a poisoned sword wound. For Castiel ten months had passed.

Several weeks had gone by since Gabe had told him Dean had left. Regardless of Gabriel’s attempts to convince him otherwise, as soon as Castiel was fit to leave his bedroom the first thing he did was meet Dean’s family. He still refused to believe that Dean had merely wanted to use him to join the fight against Lucifer; if nothing else, Dean loved his family too much to leave them behind, and even after reading the letter Dean had left for Sam, Castiel was sure there had to be an explanation for his disappearing.

Ever since Castiel had been attacked Michael had increased the levels of security in the castle. All evidence led to the same assumption – a group of humans had been responsible for Cas’ attack. Michael was on a manhunt, but Cas didn’t actually care about it. Hate generated hate, and after the deplorable way his brothers had treated humans, Cas believed the retaliation had been well deserved.

Unfortunately, the consequences of such actions had ruined Cas’ only attempt to fight for what he truly wanted, and had degraded the already fragile relationship between angels and humans.

To aggravate matters Lucifer’s troops had gained ground in a fundamental area of Micalzo. Michael wanted Castiel by his side now more than ever, but Cas refused to be subservient any longer, an obedient brother who never harbored any questions or doubts. As soon as he was strong enough, he convinced Gabriel and Anna to help him escape the castle unseen. Castiel was going to leave the city and he was going to find Dean. He had failed once, but not again, he was going to keep his promise, even if he needed to cross the ocean to do it.

All the arrangements were quickly made and by the fifth day Castiel was ready to leave. Gabriel needed more convincing to let him go by himself, but it wasn’t wise to have them both abandoning the kingdom, and additionally someone had to conceal his absence from Michael or any other angel that came asking for him.

Reaching the kingdom’s limits wasn’t as difficult as Castiel had feared. He kept his head low and used the shadows as his guide; then, once at the edge of the sea, he spread his wings and let the wind lead him high up into the clear skies. He had missed the clouds, the way the air kissed his skin, the feeling of weightlessness and absolute abandon; after almost a year of being bound to the ground, this felt like the time of his creation itself, every molecule of his being soaring and expanding to its farthest reach until he was one with the earth’s atmosphere again.

Before Castiel knew it, he had crossed the Toltorn Ocean and passed the shoreline. Micalzo was quite different from what he recalled – death polluted the air and everyone was filled with hatred and mistrust. With each camp Castiel visited he realized it had been a mistake not to disguise his wings. He was used to the side looks back at home, the apprehension from the people who knew what the darkness in his feathers meant. Here there was pure hate in people’s eyes when they saw his wings; here his wings deemed him both foe and bringer of death. So, even though he had always found such camouflage a deplorable act, Castiel started hiding his true form.

By the seventh camp, Cas’ grace was in turmoil. The fact that Dean was nowhere to be seen gave Cas hope that Gabriel was indeed wrong and Dean had not enlisted and come live here. On the other hand, that could only mean Dean had been kidnapped and taken against his will and who knew what had happened to him since then. A year had gone by, he could be hurt, lost, he could be… dead. Cas gulped down the lump of dread and entered the camp.

Castiel started with the usual questions, but so far no one had known anyone named Dean or with Dean’s traits. He was ready to move on to the next camp when he saw the shape of white wings and an angel making her way through the sky to land right in front of him. She didn’t look at him at first, removing her helmet to reveal short dark hair that contrasted beautifully with the white armor typical of the garrisons fighting Lucifer.

“Hello, my fellow–” Castiel had forgotten his wings weren’t showing and suddenly felt awkward; the tension between angels and humans hadn’t been this bad since before the kingdoms had been forged, and although many angels fought against Lucifer, that didn’t mean they were especially keen on humans.

She lifted her eyes to him, a small smile making its way up to her lips, and Castiel sighed internally in relief. “Hey, can I be of assistance?”

“Uh, yes, have you perhaps heard about a man named Dean Winchester? He is taller than me, green eyes, freckles, short light-brown hair?”

She shook her head no. “I’m sorry, never heard of him.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Thank you for your help.” He turned around when her voice stopped him again.

“You can try the tavern in the nearby town? That’s where all the soldiers go when they have a night off. Perhaps you’ll have more luck there.”

Castiel nodded and smiled. “Thank you so much.”

Despite the late hour the area was crowded with humans and quite a few angels, many of them noticeably inebriated. Castiel tried to ignore the smell of alcohol and focus on the task at hand. He started making his way to the tavern when he heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

“I’mma tell you a secret, I’m havin’ the time of my life right now.”

“Why must it be a secret?” One of the two girls clinging to Dean spoke up and giggled. “Don’t tell me you have a special someone besides us.”

Before they could see him, Castiel backed up and pressed his back flat against the wall to hide in the shadows of the street corner. Both Dean and the girls were still laughing right outside the tavern and Castiel was grateful that they couldn’t see him from there.

“Nope,” Dean slurred. “No one special, just the two of you.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, Dean,” the second girl said. “You built yourself quite a reputation around here. A little bird told us that last time you were even seen with one of the angels.”

“Lies!” Dean straightened himself up. “Don’t believe a word they say.” He almost fell down before the girls caught him with a new round of laughs. “I h-hate angels. _Hate_ them.” He hiccupped. “A-all of them. Only good when they’re bein’ useful,” Dean half grunted, half slurred. “And by useful I mean helpin’ us win the war.”

“All right, champ, we believe you, now where should we continue the night? Our house is just around the corner.”

“Sweet.” Dean stumbled over as they walked away gleefully.

Their voices slowly faded in the distance, but Castiel stood still, glued to the wall for the longest time, not knowing how to make the paralyzing pain inside his chest stop. It had been true. Everything people had told him about Dean was true all along. Dean wasn’t hurt, he was clearly not a prisoner or being forced into being here. He had moved on, confirming his hate for angels to anyone who cared to listen. _They’re only good when they’re being useful._  That’s what Castiel had been all this time? A tool. A means to an end. Dean had used him. It had been a lie. Everything had been a lie.

The dark, lonely alley gradually became blurry as his eyes watered against his will, and Castiel blinked the tears away deliberately, gulping down the sudden nausea. He leaned over, an acidic bitter taste filling his mouth and burning his throat as he threw up on the ground. When it was over, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and pulled the hood over his head before making his wings visible once more.

Everyone around promptly turned to him in shock as Castiel made his way to the center of the square, but he didn’t care anymore. He had no more business here. With a snap of his wings, he left Micalzo’s ground behind and Dean’s name with it.

Once back at the castle, Gabriel and Anna were both forbidden from ever uttering that name again. With time, the pain carved in Castiel’s chest gave way to rage, and as years went by he learned how to ignore the way his grace hurt each time his mind slipped away from his grasp and dreamed about green eyes and freckled skin.

 

 

** Present day **

Dean was brought out of Cas’ memories with a gasp. Closing his eyes, he focused on breathing through his nose. _Inhale, hold and exhale. Inhale, hold and exhale._  It had been a while since his last panic attack and he was not about to break his record.

He didn’t realized he was shaking until he felt Cas’ fingertips on him, running up and down the length of his arm in a soothing motion. “Dean?” he said with his hand lingering on Dean’s, hesitating for a moment before entwining his fingers with Dean’s.

“That’s why you came back without talking to me,” Dean whispered, a tremor making its way to his voice when he clutched at Cas’ hand.

“Yes…” There was a faint sadness to Cas’ voice, Dean didn’t even need to turn his head and look at the angel to know that.

“Cas, I can explain what you saw.” Dean turned to Cas; there were shadows under his eyes that not even the full moon could fix.

“You don’t need to explain a thing, Dean.” Castiel sighed, his warm breath reaching Dean’s skin and making him shiver. “After what my kin did to you, after what you thought I did to you, it’s perfectly understandable that you would…”

“No, you don’t understand–”

“And I certainly did not expect you to remain–”

“I didn’t sleep with those girls. I…” Dean took a sharp inhale. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

Cas snapped his head up, his eyes searching Dean’s. “What?”

“Ever since you, I– I didn’t. I mean, I’ve tried. Believe me,” Dean barked out a laugh, trying to hide the sudden chill of embarrassment, “have I tried. But I’ve been celibate for so long now that I might as well become a freaking monk.”

Castiel laughed, and Dean was sure the relief he saw in his face matched what Dean felt. “And what you heard me saying.” He leaned closer. “That was the pain talking, not the truth.”

“I know that now.” Cas nodded quickly.

“You gotta believe me on that.”

“I do, Dean.” He reached up to caress Dean’s cheek. “I promise, I believe you.”

“Good,” Dean said, suddenly feeling too tired, the events from the last couple of days catching up on him. He lay down, pulling Cas back under the covers with him, shifting so they were side by side, facing each other. “Your brother was right. That night at the Roadhouse was when I decided to run away with you, but only because I saw the way my father looked at you and I got terrified of what he might do to you.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, tangling their bodies together. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you,” Dean murmured, pulling Cas’ shirt up just enough to see the old scar running along his stomach. “But look where that got us,” he added sadly, tracing the scar with his fingers. “It’s all my fault.”

“How is any of this your fault?”

“I almost got you killed, man.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I’ve ruined your life.”

“No, you were a victim in all of this.”

“I’m no victim, Cas. I’m just a… a fuck-up,” Dean choked out, only then noticing the silent tears making their way down his cheeks.

Cas gazed at him for a moment, the soft wrinkles around his eyes deepening when the tension in his face melted into a tender smile. “You’re perfect, Dean. I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.” Castiel drew closer, brushing his nose against Dean’s cheek. “I was a speck,” he murmured against Dean’s skin. “Roaming through life.” Cas kissed away a trail of tears, his hands feathering across Dean’s back, soothing his weary muscles. “Until I saw you and everything in my life made sense.” He planted a kiss on Dean’s forehead, then the tip of his nose, leaning in to press their foreheads together. His massive dark wings curled around both of them, embracing them in a warm cocoon of feathers as they held each other close.

“So I will take the good and the bad,” Cas whispered softly in his ear. “And I’ll always come back to you as you will to me.”

The room turned quiet after that, except for the soft whimpering sounds that Dean couldn’t hold back anymore. Here, protected by Cas’ arms and his soft wings, he felt like he could let go. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs poured out of him as Cas gently rocked him until both their faces were wet and salty.

Dean buried his head in Cas’ neck, the angel’s soft humming soothing his breaths into a lazy and easy rhythm, until his sobs turned into gentle puffs of air, gradually giving way to silence.

“I called off the wedding.” Cas’ murmur snapped Dean’s eyes open. “I couldn’t marry Hannah when I’m in love with… a _fuck-up._ ” Cas chuckled and pulled away just enough to look at him.

“Hey,” Dean protested, nudging Cas’ leg with his. “I like you better when you’re saying your usual sappy crap.”

“So you do like sappy crap.”

“Maybe,” Dean huffed around a smile.

“And… would that liking include cuddling?”

“With you, yeah.” Dean lay back and held his arm out for him. Cas immediately followed him, breathing a sigh of contentment as he snuggled up against Dean’s chest and held on tightly while Dean clung to him just as hard.

Dean sank into sleep to the soft sound of Cas’ lips on his neck and the feeling of his gentle fingertips tracing Dean’s skin.

Next morning woke him up to a bright sun peeking through the curtains. Dean cursed at the blinding sunlight making his throbbing headache worse; he blinked some of his sleep away and stretched his body only to notice the strong body pressed against him. He snapped his eyes open, almost choking in surprise as the memories from the night before hit him like a wave. _Cas._

They had shifted positions overnight and Cas was now spooned behind Dean, his dark wings draped languidly and protectively around him. Dean tried to draw away, but Cas stirred and held him tighter, his strong arms pulling Dean into his chest and his leg curling around Dean’s waist swiftly.

 _Like a damn koala,_  Dean repressed a chuckle. Cas’ frown deepened when Dean slowly turned his head to kiss his cheek. Dean didn’t move after that, basking in the angel’s touch, his warm body tightly pressed against him, breath heavy on his neck.

Dean closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep for a while longer before admitting it was time to face the world again, and carefully removed himself from Cas’ embrace. The angel mumbled incoherent words and another small frown formed on his sleepy face.

Dean smiled and left the room as quietly as possible to check up on his brother. Jessica was already in the room when he got there; Sam was still asleep, but he looked much better than the day before – his cheeks were back to their healthy shade of pink and his expression was softer, with no traces of pain contorting his face.

Jess looked up at Dean and smiled. “Hey,” she whispered.

“How is Sammy?”

Jessica motioned with her head for them to leave the room and closed the door behind her.

“He’s getting better. I was able to give him water through the night. He hasn’t woken up yet, but Gabriel says that’s normal, we need to give it time for his body to recover.” She released a shaky laugh and continued, “He’s going to be okay, Dean. Gabriel and Castiel saved his life.”

She looked at him with watering eyes and Dean could only nod. “How is he?” Jessica didn’t need to explain who she was referring to.

“Cas is all right. Just needs some time to recover.”

“That’s good.” She let out a long breath and took a step forward, arms raised to wrap around Dean and pull him into a hug. “We’re going to be okay,” she murmured against his hair. “We’re a strong, badass family.”

Dean chuckled quietly. “Yes, we are.” He tightened his hug before pulling away. “Though I think I’ll have a better chance of success after a cup of coffee… or seven.”

Jessica giggled. Her eyes were filled with hope and relief and that gave Dean the much needed strength to face the long day he knew was waiting for them.

When they entered the kitchen, his mother and Gabriel were already getting themselves breakfast. Bobby was nowhere to be seen, but after the state he had seen Dean in the night before, Dean was glad the man wasn’t around to give him a much deserved scolding.

“Morning,” he mumbled, the well-lit kitchen making his hangover worse.

“Good morning, son,” Mary replied from where she sat at the table.

Gabriel was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching him with curious eyes. “Morning, Dean-o.” He grinned. “So,” he paused with a smile. “How was your night? Sleep much?” He waggled his eyebrows up and down to make his meaning clear.

Dean’s headache suddenly got much worse. He didn’t dignify him with an answer; the coffee was hot and ready, and gosh, Dean swore he could hear it calling his name. He poured some of it into a mug and cut a few slices of bread.

“C’mon, share with the class. You. My brother. In the same bed all night.” Gabriel got closer and lowered his voice as if plotting the end of the world with Dean. “Don’t tell me you didn’t take advantage of that?”

“You got issues, man.” Dean backed away and grabbed the milk to add to his coffee.

“Can I have some of that?”

Dean grunted. Gabriel was testing his limits this morning. “Sure, would you like a cup of _shut the fuck up, your voice makes my head hurt?_ ”

Gabriel snorted in reply. “Nah, that wouldn’t help with my problem. But I heard that’s pretty spectacular after a marathon of hot, steamy se—”

“ _Gabriel!_ ” Cas’ voice echoed through the kitchen. “Can you behave yourself? Just for one day?”

Gabe shrugged. “I’ll do my best.” He walked past Dean and left the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go check on Sam.”

Cas glared at his brother until he was out of sight before turning to look at Dean. His piercing blue eyes made Dean want to reach out and pull him back upstairs to the shelter of sheets they had shared the night before.

“Castiel, why don’t you get yourself something to eat?” Jess’ voice snapped them both out of their daze.

Cas’ eyes flicked between Jess and Mary; he was still at the doorway, hesitating to move.

“Sit with us, Castiel.” Mary gestured for him to sit beside her. “Come, sweetie, you’re part of the family, no need to be shy.”

Castiel flushed a little, but complied.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “What do you wanna eat? I’ll get it for you.”

“There’s no need, I’m more than capable of–”

“I know you are, Cas,” Dean shook his head slightly and smiled. “But I’ll do it, okay?”

Cas huffed. “Then I will have what you’re having.”

“Gotcha.”

Dean got another mug, filling it with coffee, before cutting three more slices of bread and slathering them with honey. He set everything on the table in front of Cas before sitting down. “Black coffee, and only honey on the bread. That’s still how you like it, right?”

Cas stared at it for a couple of seconds with a surprised look, nodding slowly before looking at Dean. “Yes.” He took the mug in his hands, his lips curling up into a tiny smile. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Sure,” Dean replied, unable to avoid a smile of his own.

When he finally took his eyes of Cas, Dean noticed both Jess and Mary had matching amused grins.

“What?” Dean could feel his cheeks burning up under the delighted gaze of the two blondes; he tried to hide himself behind his mug and took another sip.

“How are you feeling, Castiel?” Jessica spoke after picking up another piece of fruit from her plate.

“I’m feeling much better. My grace is recovering fast.”

“I’m glad.”

“I went to see Sam on my way here. He is looking quite well.”

Mary nodded. “Gabriel told me he was very lucky to have survived the blast. If John hadn’t put himself in front of him…”

“John put himself in front of him?”

Mary nodded again.

“That explains why Sam made it out of there alive,” Cas continued, looking at them contemplatively. “John saved his life.”

Jessica hummed. “So did you.” She reached out across the table to touch Cas’ hand. “Thank you for that.”

Castiel flushed red for the second time that morning, apparently trying to set some sort of record. Dean snorted and was rewarded with one of Cas’ _I’ll smite your ass_  looks.

“I’m glad I was able to assist you.” Cas turned back to Jess. “I care about Sam, about all of you.” He clutched her hand in his before focusing on his food, and a comfortable silence settled in the kitchen.

“Mornin’.” Bobby tromped into the kitchen, stopping at Dean’s side who tried his best to go unnoticed behind his mug. “I hope we’re all sober today.”

Dean suspected the older man was looking at him, but he had no intention of taking his eyes off his mug which looked more and more fascinating by the minute.

“Ellen and Jo went ahead and started getting everything ready for the funeral, but I thought I would come get you in case you wanna, y’know.” Bobby paused, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Yes,” Mary responded. “I would like to help with the preparations. Thank you, Bobby, we really appreciate everything you did.”

Bobby gave a half shrug. “That’s what family’s for.”

She nodded, her mouth trembling a few times, before she looked down, tears nipping at the corner of her eyes. Castiel hesitated for a moment before reaching out and putting his arm around her. Mary instantly melted against him, head leaning on his shoulder while she clutched at him and evened her breath.

If the circumstances were different, Dean’s heart would have melted at the sight, but right now it just made something inside him break. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, his voice scratchy when he spoke after a heavy stretch of silence. “We still need to figure out what we’re gonna do with our basement. That thing is a wreck.”

“I think for now we have no choice but to leave it like that,” Jessica replied.

“Agreed. Ain’t nothing you can do right now, boy.”

“I can do it.” They all turned to see that Gabriel had returned.

Jessica raised her chin from her hand. “How is he?”

“No changes.”

Jessica nodded and excused herself to go watch Sam.

Gabriel entered the kitchen before continuing, “Thanks to my darling brother taking my place at healing Sam, my grace has already recovered completely. I’m strong as an ox again.” He created a few sparks of green and golden light with his hand to prove his point. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” Dean reached up from where he was sitting and patted Gabe’s shoulder.

Gabriel looked down at him with a friendly grin. “You owe me a steamy night of hot sex with my brother.”

Both Cas and Bobby choked on their coffee.

Dean rolled his eyes and got up. “You need urgent treatment, man.”

He heard swift footsteps heading in their direction before Jessica appeared at the doorway, struggling to catch her breath. “Sam is awake. Come on, he wants to talk to you.”

They all strode upstairs into the bedroom where Sam was now sitting against the headboard, his eyes fully opened, looking better than the last time Dean had come to check up on him.

“Hey.” His baby brother smiled brightly.

Everyone stepped forward to hug him and Dean waited behind for his turn. As he got closer Sam looked up at him, his eyes full of expectation when he opened his arms, waiting for Dean’s embrace.

Dean leaned in and smacked him in the head.

“Hey!” Sam complained, rubbing his head. “What was that for?”

“What was –? You– What the hell were you thinking?”

“I…” Sam rested his head against the pillow. “Dean, it’s…”

“What the hell happened, son?” Bobby moved to Dean’s side.

Sam shook his head, lines forming between his eyebrows. “Didn’t…” he hesitated. “What did Dad tell you?”

Mary inhaled the air sharply, clutching at her dress. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

Jessica lay down next to Sam, curling up around him. “Sam…”

“Where is Dad?” Sam darted his eyes, glancing around the room searching for their father.

“Dean, where is Dad?” he insisted.

“There was an explosion.” Dean’s voice quivered and he forced it under control.

“An explosion?” Sam repeated slowly, trying to make sense of what Dean was finding difficult to say.

“From what we know, your father put himself between you and the blast.” Gabriel stepped in. “He saved you.”

“Saved…” Sam repeated looking down. Dean’s heart sank at the exact moment realization dawned on his brother’s face.

“John is gone, Sammy.” Their mother sat at the edge of the bed, taking his brother’s face between her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Sam shook his head compulsively. “No, no, no.”

Mary hugged Sam while he sobbed into her hair, deep wrecking sounds, edged with sorrow and pain, breaking out from his lungs.

“It’s my fault,” Sam said between short, shallow breaths. “It worked. Oh god, it worked. It’s all my fault.”

“Shh, sweetie, please, it’s not your fault.” Jessica held on to Sam, tenderly stroking his hair and wiping away his tears.

Dean swallowed the lump of sorrow inside his throat and kneeled down, darting a side glance at Bobby who looked just as confused as Dean felt. Dean touched Sam’s shoulder who immediately clutched at Dean’s sleeve and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Dean didn’t know how long they sat there, holding each other, trying to salvage some comfort out of the tragedy that had shaken their family.

“It’s all my fault.” Sam’s voice kept echoing in the room. “It’s all my fault,” he kept saying it, like a mantra. Like a curse. “I killed Dad.”


	19. Chapter 19

The morning was long gone by the time Dean and the others left Sam and Jess alone in the bedroom. Sam had fallen asleep with tear-streaked cheeks and the group was now occupying different spots in the main entrance of the house.

Everything was silent except for Gabriel’s foot unceasingly tapping on the floor. “Just spit it out,” Dean barked.

“Do I have to be the one to state the obvious here?” Gabriel blurted out, waving his hands as he spoke. “There’s something fishy here. What your brother said. The whole ‘It worked.’ thing. What was that all about?”

“I’m sure he’s just confused,” Mary said in a quiet voice. “He just found out his father is dead, it’s probably just the shock.” Mary wrapped her arms around herself, looking even less convinced by her own words than the rest of them.

“Yeah,” Dean supplied.

“I’m actually gonna agree with Mr. Crabby Pants here,” Bobby said, nodding at Gabriel, and stepped forward. “You gotta admit, this looks… strange.”

“Well, I’m sure that whatever it is, we’ll figure it out in time. Can we just…” Dean rubbed his brow to ward off a new headache. “Let’s just deal with one thing at a time, okay? Here.” Dean took the supplies Mary had prepared to take to Bobby’s house. “You need to take care of Dad’s funeral, right? So just go. Bobby, I’m gonna see if Sam is in any condition to come along and we will meet you there as soon as we can.”

The two nodded and left.

“Gabe,” Dean continued, turning to the angel. “Please go downstairs and see what you can do with that mess.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Gabriel replied and disappeared into the basement, leaving Cas and Dean alone.

The house was dark and felt too damn empty with no voices to fill it up and numb all the sorrow and grief threatening to tear Dean in half. He closed his eyes, pushing those thoughts into the deepest corner of his mind.

“Dean.” Cas’ gentle voice made him open his eyes again. “How are you feeling?” He raised his hand and slowly touched Dean’s temple. “Your head is hurting. Let me help you.”

“No, Cas, you don’t need—” Dean’s words died on his tongue when Cas cupped his cheek, his eyes glowing ablaze as tendrils of blue and silver light touched Dean’s skin and made the pain disappear.

“There,” he said, still caressing Dean’s cheek. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean grasped at Cas’ arm, his fingers brushing the inside of Cas’ wrist. “You shouldn’t waste your grace on me.”

Cas shook his head fondly. “My grace rumbles with happiness each time I allow it to touch you.” He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Dean. “Trust me, it’s no waste.”

Dean exhaled and buried his face in Cas’ neck. “With all this mess we don’t even get to commemorate the fact we’re together again,” Dean confessed into Cas’ hair. “It sucks.”

“We will have a lot of time for that later.” Castiel tightened his hold and kissed the tender skin behind Dean’s ear; he hummed and clutched at Cas’ clothes to pull him closer, basking in the safety of his body and in that promise he hoped they would get to keep.

“I can’t believe I’m feeling like crap because of my Dad, he didn’t deserve it,” Dean mumbled.

“He was still your father. Being sad for his death is a natural reaction.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Cas left a trail of butterfly kisses along Dean’s jawline, carefully, slowly, like he was afraid he would break Dean under the tenderness of his lips. Dean closed his eyes, grasping at the curls of hair at the nape of Cas’ neck to let him know it was okay, swallowing thickly when the angel pulled away to nudge Dean’s nose with his.

Cas laughed breathlessly, resting their foreheads together, eyes trained on Dean’s mouth. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to do what I want to do right now. The timing is definitely not the best and after I almost ruined everything again, I–”

Dean captured the rest of Cas’ words with his lips, moaning when the angel instantly returned the kiss. Dean had been broken before, he had been ruined all this time, all his life.

But with Cas, it was like being taking apart in all the right ways. There was no ruin with Cas, only pieces being put back together with each small moan escaping the angel’s lips, each gentle nibble and broken whimper, his fingers digging soft imprints into his neck and binding Dean together.

Someone cleared their throat, and Dean reluctantly pulled away. The feeling of Cas lingered on his lips and Dean drew his bottom lip between his teeth before turning around to see the source of the sound. Gabriel was on the other side of the hallway at the top of the stairs that led to the basement.

“You need to see this,” Gabriel said in a worried tone and went downstairs without waiting for a reply.

Castiel and Dean followed him down the wooden steps. Everything was back to what it used to be. The old cement floor with little cracks in it, the bins full of old decorations and junk Sam had gathered along the years from his inventions. At the center, the old table full of paperwork, samples and tubes of all kinds and sizes; Dean touched the wooden surface lightly then looked up at the chalkboard – it was full of scribbles and symbols Dean couldn’t identify.

“Great job, Gabe, everything’s spot on.”

“Yeah, just a little trick that restored everything to its form at the exact moment before the explosion,” Gabriel replied, not looking at Dean, focusing on the large black book he was holding in his hands. He dumped it on the table, knocking over some of the beakers and jars.

Dean leaned over Gabriel’s shoulder to take a closer look at the book. It was familiar somehow… it looked–

“I’ve seen this before, once or twice in my house, Sam was reading it and…” Dean squinted, touching the gold-engraved words with his fingers. “ _Oh my god._ ”

Gabriel finally looked up at him.

“That’s the book my brother was showing to Michael when he first found us!”

“Why is Sam going around with the book of Teloch in his possession?” Gabriel asked.

“Book of what?” Dean snapped his head back and forth between the angels.

“Teloch. Death,” Cas clarified. “It was banned from the kingdoms when the pact was made. It is said that inside is revealed how to make a weapon that would nullify any angel’s grace. Said weapon absorbs our grace, the light in it, the energy if you will, leaving behind a void and an empty vessel.”

“Why would Sammy…” Dean trailed off.

“Anyone with this type of weapon would have in their hands the means to kill any angel,” Cas continued, the golden words glistening under the dim light when he turned the black covered book in his hands. “Even the most powerful ones like Michael and Lucifer.”

Dean inhaled sharply when it finally hit him. His brother in their private library reading the book; him talking with Michael when the angel had found Dean, the book secured in Sam’s hands before showing it to Michael. Had Sam threatened Michael? Was he planning on killing him?

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Gabriel said, taking the book from Cas’ hands. “I certainly could use some convincing explanations as to why your brother has in his possession a book on how to kill angels.”

Was this what they had been doing all this time? All the hours Sam locked himself in the library, all the nights he spent here in the basement with their father. Have they been working on a weapon to kill angels? Dean shut his eyes. Was this the reason why his father had died? For some type of revenge? Revenge that had gone terribly wrong… Then why had Sam said it had worked?

Dean turned around without a word and stomped his way up the stairs to Sam’s bedroom, not minding to knock on the door before barging in.

“What the hell is a book that’s able to kill goddamn angels doing in our house, Sam?” Dean came to a halt in front of his brother who was already on his feet and apparently getting ready for the funeral. “What did you two dumbasses get yourselves into?”

Sam looked away, his voice low and feeble as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “I can’t tell you yet.”

“You can’t–” Dean scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me? _Dad is dead!_ What more do you need to open your mouth and tell me what’s going on before anyone else gets hurt?”

“Not yet, okay? Dad’s death just means we need to hold on a little longer.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Dean placed both hands on his brother’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Sammy, please, don’t do anything stupid. Just talk to me. Is this some kind of stupid revenge?”

“What? No! No, Dean… I can’t tell you yet.” Sam shook his head, freshly formed tears dancing in his eyes. “Not yet,” he repeated. He staggered in his attempt to reach for the door.

Dean caught him before he could fall and sighed, running his free hand across his face. This conversation wasn’t over and as soon as the funeral was done they would get back to it, but for now, he helped Sammy down the stairs and both of them, along with Jess and the angels, made their way to Bobby’s house.

  

 

The funeral was simple. The furniture in the living room had been moved to make way for the closed casket at the front of three rows of chairs; there were flower arrangements on display around the casket and two large candles on wooden pillars on both sides.

It was late in the afternoon when they brought the casket out, Dean, Sam, Bobby and the others carrying it to the cemetery on the east border of the walls where a brief graveside ceremony was held. Not many people were there, which was understandable – John Winchester was an ass.

Sam elbowed Dean in the chest when he commented on that fact out loud, but didn’t exactly deny it. How could he when they both knew it was true? And yes, maybe his father had died saving Sam’s life and had probably gotten into that mess with Sam to redeem himself somehow. But John Winchester had been the one to steal Dean from everything he held dear and Dean just hoped that one day he would find it in him to forgive the man.

“Are you all right?” Cas touched his lower back and Dean reached for his hand, entwining their fingers together.

“I’m managing.”

Castiel nodded and looked back at the casket currently being lowered into the grave. They stayed in silence until everything was over, their hands clasped together all the while.

 

 

When they got home, Michael and two other angels were there. Dean instinctively reached for his sword, but his brother stopped him, slowly shaking his head. “It’s okay,” he reassured Dean.

The angels turned their stern expressions to them. Sam cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“Do you have it?” Michael spoke up, ignoring Dean’s confused raise of eyebrows.

“Yes,” Sam stated.

“Sammy?” Mary’s voice came from behind.

“You all should go ahead and get inside, I’ll join you in a bit.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I understand what’s going on here,” Dean rasped through gritted teeth.

“Do what your brother says.” The air got abruptly ten degrees colder, Michael’s eyes glowing for a moment before the temperature went back to normal. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, his white cloak floating behind him when he moved closer. “This conversation is between the two of us.”

“Fuck you,” Dean spat out without bothering to look at Michael.

“Dean,” Sam trailed off.

“The weapon, human, give it to us,” said one of the other angels.

“What?” Dean asked incredulously, but his brother was already moving past him to enter the house.

“Wait here,” Sam said over his shoulder.

“Shit,” Dean muttered and darted behind his brother. “Sam! Wait!” He caught up with Sam on the way to the basement, grabbing his arm and forcing him to stop. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I had to do it, Dean.”

“Do what? Why is Michael asking for the weapon?”

“I did it, Dean. I made the weapon, the one that kills angels. Dad and I were doing the last test on it when it activated and killed Dad.”

“And Michael? Why is he here, Sam?! How does he know?”

“I… I’ve made a deal with him.”

“Jesus, Sam.” Dean suddenly felt dizzy and by the way Sam clasped his arm, he was probably just as pale.

“It was the only way to let you stay, Dean.”

“Sammy…” Dean’s voice was strained and weak with grief.

Sam laughed sadly. “When Michael found out you were here… remember that day he followed us in the forest? He was going to take you back, Dean. He was going to take you away from us again.” He shook his head vigorously, clenching his teeth in an attempt to keep the tears in his eyes from falling. “I couldn’t let that happen!”

Sam wiped away the tears and inhaled deeply. “That day I made a deal with him while you were still knocked out – in exchange for allowing you to stay, I would provide Michael the weapon he needs to win the war.”

“I didn’t want you to have to sacrifice anything else for me, Sam.”

His brother gave him a watery smile. “The biggest sacrifice to me would be losing you again.”

Dean huffed, pulling him into a hug, and even though his brother was tall as a freaking sasquatch, in that moment they were kids again, with Sammy, fragile and small, buried in his arms, waiting for his hero to make everything better. But they weren’t kids anymore, and Dean was no hero. He had never meant for this to happen; he should have been the one protecting his little brother, not the other way around. “And Dad?” Dean whispered.

“He knew the risks,” Sam mumbled into his shoulder. “And he was willing to pay for them.”

They pulled away and Dean released a shaky exhale. “Shit.”

“Yeah…” Sam cleared his throat. “So, I’m just gonna.” He jerked with his thumb towards the basement.

“There’s no weapon there. Gabriel was already there putting everything back into place. I was there too. We didn’t see it anywhere.”

Sam huffed. “C’mon, who do you think I am? I used an incantation so that no one besides me and Dad could see the weapon. Obviously.”

“ _Obviously,_ ” Dean repeated in a mocking tone and jabbed Sam’s shoulder.

When they got outside Castiel was having an intense argument with Michael before the white-winged angel saw them coming and snapped his attention to the object Sam was holding in his hands. “Is that it?”

Sam nodded and handed the weapon to him. Michael looked at it with a frown. “How do you–”

“Here.” Sam helped Michael to put it on.

Dean couldn’t blame Michael for being confused, Dean didn’t quite understand it either, the so called weapon wasn’t like a sword or a bow Dean was so used to; it attached to the wrist and hand of whoever was using it.

Michael stretched his fingers, raising his hand in front of his eyes and turning it side to side to take a closer look. From the chain around his wrist, golden crystals bloomed out across the back of his hand, laced together with pale bronze metal and branching out to end in slender cuffs at the tips of his fingers; the crystals followed along his palm all the way to the center where a big white crystal shone beneath the dim sunlight.

Michael took it off and gave it to one of the other angels who put it in a box. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He bowed his head for a moment before snapping his wings and flying up to the sky, leaving a turmoil of winds in his wake.

Everyone started making their way inside, but Dean stopped Cas, fingers tangling together as they lingered close. “What were you and Michael fighting about?”

Cas swallowed thickly. “Lucifer is on his way here with his troops. He’s going to try to conquer the kingdom and he is going to start with this city.”

“Crap.”

Cas turned his cerulean blues to him, sadness dimming them before he looked away. “Michael wants me by his side. He says they need everyone there if we want to beat Lucifer.”

Dean’s heart sank and he gulped down the sudden lump in his throat, his voice small when he gave voice to his fear. “And you’re going to join him?”

“This isn’t a matter of _him versus us_  anymore, Dean-o,” Gabriel spoke up, startling Dean. “If Lucifer is coming, we should all join our forces to fight back.”

 

 

Dinner was delicious but quiet, with everyone’s minds drenched in dark thoughts from the last days’ events. By the end of the meal, Cas offered to help Jess and Mary in the kitchen while Sam was deep in conversation with Bobby, Ellen and Jo.

Dean excused himself and went to the backyard, needing the fresh breeze to ease the knot in his stomach. The war was coming to his doorstep, and this time it wouldn’t be just Dean in the middle of the battlefield – his family would be in it too. And there was nothing he could do to stop this from happening; he had tried so hard to keep them out of harm’s way and yet here they were, about to face Lucifer’s wrath and all the evil that was coming along with him.

Cas cleared his throat, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. “Mind if I join you?”

“Suit yourself,” Dean said, taking a drag from his mug.

Cas sat by his side in the stairs, and they fell into silence, watching the mild night of the beginning of summer drifting in front of them.

“So, what now?” Dean asked over the quiet cicadas’ song. He gulped down the rest of his ale and welcomed the bitter taste on his tongue.

Cas sighed. “Gabriel already went to the castle; Kali is leaving the city with her family to find safety in the mountains.” He paused. “I think you and your family should do the same.” Cas slid closer and rested his head against Dean’s shoulder, his thick dark hair brushing against Dean’s cheek. “Is there anyone you know outside the city who would take you in?”

“Well… there’s Rufus.”

“Then go to his house, it will be safer there.”

Dean swallowed and closed his eyes, his hand gripping his mug in a white-knuckled grip hard enough to hurt. “And you? I just got you back, are you leaving again?”

Cas lifted his head. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.” He gazed at the house – inside they could hear the hushed voices and the clang of pots while his family finished washing the dishes. Dean found it peaceful, with Cas’ warmth nestled against his side and the quiet night ahead of them. Dean feared none of that would be here in the morning. “But I need to protect you, I need to protect all of you.”

“I can take care of myself, Cas.”

“I know you can,” Cas whispered. “But if Lucifer defeats Michael, everyone will be in danger and you know what he will do to any human who crosses his way. We need to stop him before he destroys everything we love.” Cas kissed his cheek softly and rested his forehead against Dean’s, nuzzling his nose against his face.

“You haven’t fought in a war since you went rogue and consumed all of those souls. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with battles anymore.”

“I’m tired of running, Dean,” Cas whispered into his skin. “I’ve been running away from my fear of losing control again for too long. I can’t run anymore. Especially now.”

“Yeah? Because from my perspective I’m just gonna have to watch you leave again. Nothing changed there.”

“This isn’t me leaving you, Dean, please don’t think that. Once the city is secured and Lucifer is defeated I’m coming straight back to you.” He cupped Dean’s cheek, willing Dean to turn his head and look at him. “I will not go against your wish, I don’t want that to happen ever again. So if you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I will do what you ask of me.”

Dean pulled the angel into his arms, nosing at his hair, trying to memorize his smell that always reminded him of the scent of the wisteria blooms, dangling softly in the summer breeze. Castiel sighed and wrapped his arms around Dean tightly. “You know if I could have it my way I would never let go of you,” Dean said and Cas nodded against his neck.

Dean wished they could run away to their place where none of these problems could keep Cas away from his arms, pliant and soft, breathing against Dean’s neck. But if they didn’t fight back now, Lucifer would take over the city and kill everything they knew, and as much as Dean would rather pretend none of this was happening, they had to face this now or risk losing everything they loved. “But I understand what you’ve got to do,” Dean continued. “What all of us have to do. We have to keep our family safe. That’s why I’m going with you!”

Cas tightened his grip. “No, Dean! This war is between my brothers. My family made this mess, let us take care of it. It’s too dangerous for you. Please stay here. Safe.”

“You’re the one who said that if Lucifer wins, it will be everyone’s problem. Not just angels, humans too. And I had my fair share of battles, I have experienc–”

“What about your family, Dean? Who will take care of them? You need to make sure they are kept safe.”

Dean sighed and reached for Cas’ wing, brushing the soft feathers with care, committing to memory the way they felt beneath his fingertips.

“You know what I’ve always loved about your skin?” Castiel whispered, peppering light kisses along Dean’s neck. “The constellations of freckles in it. The way it reminds me of stars,” he murmured around each tiny kiss. Dean tilted his head to give him more room and Cas hummed his contentment above his pulse, sending a trail of shivers along Dean’s body. “I remember staring at your freckles for hours on end when you were sleeping in my arms, trying to map all of them.”

Cas pulled away to look at Dean, their noses brushing together, his blue eyes burning straight through Dean and a hint of a smile curling up his lips. Dean felt himself blush under the close attention and Castiel’s smile only got bigger.

“I want to show you something.” Cas got up, extending his hand for Dean to take and follow him. He guided them through the trees and away from the house, until they got to a clearing. Dean looked around, but there was nothing out of ordinary there. He turned to Cas again who was watching him tenderly. “Look up.”

Dean was still confused, but did as he was told. There were no trees sheltering them from the sky here. The dark night was clear and absent of clouds, a veil of pitch black. Stars of all sizes colored the sky, shining on them like a sea of golden flames.

“In the last years, I often looked at the sky hoping to see a falling star just so I could make a wish. It was always the same one.”

“What was it?” Dean asked, not taking his eyes from the sky.

“I wished I could forget you.”

Dean huffed and looked at the angel at last. “Way to ruin the mood, dude.”

Castiel stepped closer, reaching for Dean’s hand to draw him near. “I wished for that because I was tired of being haunted by your face, your voice and our memories together. I wished for that,” he said, exhaling softly. “Because forgetting you was the only way I could ever stop loving you.”

Castiel cradled Dean’s face between his hands, absently running his thumbs along Dean’s cheekbones. His blue eyes were made darker by the specks of golden stars reflected in them. “I’m glad that never came true,” he spoke after a moment, voice gone soft.

Dean couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything else besides gather him in his arms to fit their bodies together. “What if you could make a wish now?” Dean asked, a little short of breath.

Cas leaned their foreheads together, noses touching as Dean tightened his embrace. “I would wish to go back to that night under the shooting stars, where I saw you close your eyes and wish something for yourself. The way I felt knowing you felt the same way I did…” he murmured with a smile, his warm breath caressing Dean’s skin. “That first kiss.”

“Well, I can’t give you the stars and I don’t have the power to go back in time.” Dean chuckled and pulled back. Castiel was gazing up at him, his eyes swelling with tenderness, a soft shade of pink reaching his cheeks as Dean leaned in. “But the rest is yours.”

Dean surged forward and kissed him in earnest, fingers tangling in the angel’s dark hair, arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, slowly getting lost in Cas’ mewling puffs of breath and soft lips. Cas kissed him just as desperately, Dean’s full lip between his teeth, strong enough to hurt but not break, fingers burning through Dean’s clothes and dragging breathy moans from Dean’s lips.

They kissed until Dean’s lips were tender and swollen and they were both panting. Pressed tightly together, murmuring softly against each other’s lips between gasps of air, clinging to each other until the urgency gave way to tender touches and the soft, languid pull of lips.

“Just promise me you’ll be safe,” Dean murmured, voice completely raw and wrecked. “Do what you’ve gotta do and come back to me.”

“I promise.”

Dean’s eyes were blurred when he pulled away, silently sobbing as he reached out to brush Cas’ cheekbone, willing the tears brimming in the corners of Cas’ eyes to stop.

Castiel beamed at him through his tears. “Close your eyes, Dean.”

“Cas…”

“Please, Dean, it will be easier if you close your eyes.”

Dean tried to ignore the break in Cas’ voice and the way his own heart was beating painfully fast.

He closed his eyes. There was only vastness at first, but soon he saw it, far away, a shy and lonely light – faint blue with specks of silver, floating softly, moving past Dean without really seeing him.

Then the darkness was gone, followed by a kaleidoscope of explosions and colors. Dean smiled. Everything was beautiful – like diving right into the universe. If he stretched his hand he could touch all of it. Entire constellations in the palm of his hand. The birth of entire galaxies and the blast of wild reds and vivid purples, whites, blues, yellows bright enough to blind.

Dean covered his eyes and looked away; the lights were warm against his skin, softly touching his soul and making him glance up again. Meteors flickered before his eyes, exploding into bursts of flame until there was nothing but ashes. Dean couldn’t feel the earth beneath him anymore, only the tender hold Cas had on him as Dean moved, flying effortlessly like stardust racing through space and coloring the skies.

Dean opened his eyes and left the dream Cas was projecting into his mind, his voice hitching in his throat when he noticed his feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. They were floating, Cas’ big black wings supporting them both in the air. He clutched at Cas’ shoulders. “What the hell, man. Afraid of heights, remember?”

“Don’t worry.” He couldn’t see Cas’ face, but he could hear his smile when his lips brushed Dean’s ear. “I’ve got you.”

Dean closed his eyes shut and fell into the dream world again, floating on the vast universe as he watched the same blue and silver light from the beginning reach a big blue world. There were other lights following it. Dean could feel their emotions inside him, the way they fluttered when they found this new planet, the place they had been looking for for so long – a place to live, to be free. The blue light with specks of silver had wings now, and called this planet home.

Then the twilight came and the light was alone, its brightness dimming and faint.

Cas spoke to him without words. _I was darkness, surrounded by stars and galaxies and universes… until you found me._

The world mutated, evolved, and Dean was smiling, because he was free as well in this world that was aglow with life, burning up every single atom in his body, pulling him apart and back together again. When he looked back again the black-winged light wasn’t alone anymore – another light was there, a green one.

 _You complete me,_  Cas murmured inside his head.

Dean gasped, his breath almost a sob as he saw the once faint blue light growing and flourishing, melting with the green one until the two became one and a spark flared up throughout the world and cut through Dean’s paper skin.

_Every piece of you._

Dean screamed, feeling the blast in every cell of his body, lighting him up all the way inside, deep into the marrow of his bones until he was shining with every emotion rippling from the blue and green light. The intensity and clarity of it was almost too much to take. But Dean took it, he let it all in. Hot tears prickled Dean’s skin and he released a shaky breath, feeling the light shining through him, painting the world in green and blue until the light didn’t feel alone anymore.

_Thank you._

When Dean opened his eyes Cas was gone and his feet were touching the ground again. “Cas?”

A glimpse of a voice still echoed in his mind over and over again: _I love you, Dean, I love you._

Dean’s knees buckled beneath him and he blinked away the blurriness in his eyes. He lay on the grass facing the stars. The feelings from that blue and silver light still pulsed through his body, and the strongest one throbbing in his chest was a promise of return.

Cas had spared him from having to watch him leave, but it hurt just as deeply. Dean willed his mind to focus on soothing thoughts of the angel who had filled his dreams with hope and had made him believe in his mother’s words again. _Angels are watching over you._  Dean curled in on himself, not bothering with the tears falling down his face or the cold ground numbing his body; he just lay there and wished the stars would bring Cas back to him safely.


	20. Chapter 20

When Dean joined his family in the living room, they were so still he wouldn’t be surprised if they had turned to stone. Dean slumped on the couch next to his brother and muffled a yawn, his eyes too heavy to stay open. “We need to leave.”

“What?” Sam asked without moving his head from where it rested on the back of the couch.

“If Lucifer’s army is on its way, there’s a good chance this house won’t keep us safe. Cas suggested we should go to Rufus’ – it’s in the woods, far enough from the city that no one will know we’re there. We stay there until things have calmed down.”

“What about all the people living in the city? What will happen to them?”

“Let’s focus on one thing at a time, okay? First let’s get our family to safety.”

Sam nodded and Mary got up with a determined expression, pulling Jess up with her. “We’ll pack some necessities for the journey.”

“Good,” Dean was on his feet as well. “We’ll go get whatever we might need from our house and first thing tomorrow we leave the city.”

 

 

The trip to the outside walls was long and somber. The streets were full of families, travelling with the few possessions they could take with them. Everyone shared the same dreadful silence; no one knew if this was a goodbye to their homes and their lives or if there would be something left to return to by the end of the day. Some people went along with them to leave Piamoel and find a safer place to hide. Others headed to the center of the town, where refuge was being offered to anyone who wished to hide in the caves beneath the castle.

They carried on until they reached the castle walls where Bobby, Ellen and Jo were already waiting for them. From there, the ride was faster, their horses cutting through the torturous forest trails up to Rufus’ house. Charlie’s and Gilda’s horses were already there and Dean released a sigh of relief for having everyone here safe and sound.

He dismounted and swallowed hard, forcing his distress into the pit of his stomach. It was time.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice snapped his head up. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”

Dean fumbled for Chevro’s reins, not quite meeting his brother’s eyes. Dean had made this decision in the moment Cas had told him he was leaving. Wrapped in Cas’ arms, with the angel begging him to go, Dean had decided to stay.

He had to make sure that his family was safe first, but now, with them here, protected and away from the danger, it was time for him to go back.

Dean glanced at his family – everyone was looking at him with confused expressions. He let out a harsh breath and closed his eyes. “I’m returning to the city.”

“What?”

“Son, what are you talking about?”

Mary drew closer, reaching for his arm. “Dean, please.” Dean shook his head faintly and met her eyes.

“I can’t leave him.”

“Who? Cas?!” Sam clutched at his shoulder. “Dean, he knows how to take care of himself. And he said he would come find us when all of this is over, right?”

“Boy.” Bobby came to stand by Sam’s side. “This isn’t our fight. You don’t need to do this.”

“I know that.” Dean bobbed his head.

“Dean,” Sam pleaded, his eyes full of despair. “Don’t you think you fought enough for them already?”

“It’s not for them!” Dean paused, clearing his throat to keep his voice from shaking. “It’s for him. I can’t leave without him…” He darted his eyes to Sam and felt a surge of guilt crushing his chest. He hated seeing his family suffering, especially because of him. But if Dean left Cas behind and he died, Dean would never forgive himself. And as much as the idea of going to battle brought out Dean’s worst nightmares and the demons Dean had tried to keep at bay all these last months, Dean would go willingly this time, because even though this war still had no meaning to him, Cas… Cas meant everything. “I love him,” he breathed.

Mary smiled softly and cradled Dean’s face. “We know how much Castiel means to you, but it’s dangerous back there. Lucifer’s troops won’t spare anyone…” Mary voice cracked with emotion, her eyelashes glistening wet while she visibly fought back the tears.

Dean could only nod, voice caught in his throat. “That’s why I have to go, Mom, I need to make sure Cas is okay, please understand.”

Mary wiped the tears spilling across her face, she pulled him into her arms, murmuring softly into his ear. “I was wrong, you know? Angels didn’t watch over you.” She tightened her embrace. “But Cas did. I know these last years were hard for both of you. But in his own way, he was always there.” She pulled away, cupping his face between her hands, smiling up at him through her tears. “I understand what you have to do. Just please be careful.” She kissed his forehead and stifled a sob.

“I will, Mom,” he mumbled, burying his head in her hair.

“I’m coming with you,” Sam interrupted them firmly.

“Shit, Sam, no!” Dean pulled away from his mother. “That’s out of the question.”

“It’s decided, Dean. If you go, I go.” He adjusted the strap of his leather bag on his shoulder. “Besides, you’re going to need someone resourceful by your side.”

“Sammy… I can’t let you do this.”

“I’m going, Dean, whether you like it or not.”

“Sam?” Jess called out. Sam pulled her to him, murmuring something into her ear that Dean couldn’t quite make out. Her eyes gradually filled with tears, but she nodded at his words and closed her eyes. “I love you too,” she whispered.

A pang of guilt made Dean’s stomach twist painfully in a knot. He looked away, not wanting to invade their private moment.

 

 

Dean and Sam had just made their way into the city when it started. The daylight suddenly dimmed; clouds of winged figures crossed the sun, raining vibrant bursts of grace that submerged the town in an endless rainbow. It would be beautiful if not for the cries of pain erupting all around.

Dean drew his sword and Sam followed suit. "Don't forget to aim for the wings. The wings are vulnerable."

Chaos unfolded everywhere he looked. Houses collapsed throughout the streets, smashing people on their way down. Dean remembered this, days after days of slashing angels’ flesh. Days blurring together as his comrades fell. He shut his eyes, the rotten meat and the smell of burned flesh invading his senses all over again. Smoke and dust hung in the air, stealing away the sunlight from Micalzo’s front lines. Sweat, death, screams. And Dean wanted to cover his ears. Turn around and leave. But he never did. He couldn’t give up.

Especially not now that he had somewhere he needed to be. _Someone._

Dean snapped his eyes open and shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. Above him, more angels flew past them. That’s when Dean saw him: those dark wings, pale skin and light, short hair. It had been three years since the last time Dean had seen him, but he would recognize him anywhere. _Lucifer._

“Sam, we need to keep going,” he shouted to his brother above the broken screams and clash of swords separating them. Dean incited Chevro to speed up until they were galloping along the streets.

They made it to the castle without any incidents. They used the backroads, the darker ones – roads they knew by heart from old make-believe games, when they ran through the streets as dragon slayers and hunters of monsters. The front courtyard of the castle was a battlefield, white-winged angels and humans against an army of dark-winged angels with Lucifer leading the attack.

The angel tore his way through the crowd, his red and black grace leaving a path of bodies behind. Most were dead before they hit the ground, their bodies gruesomely mutilated.

Dean swallowed hard and turned his attention to his brother as they both dismounted. “Come on, let’s go around.”

Sam replied with a nod and followed close behind. They didn’t go far. Three shapes dropped from the sky, landing not too far from where Dean and Sam stood.

Two white-winged angels side by side with a pair of black wings – Michael, Castiel and Gabriel towered over the rest of the army, their wings stretched to their full-length and their eyes already ablaze with grace. Behind them, Balthazar, Inias, Anna and Naomi stood tall and steady, waiting for the sign from Michael to start the attack. The aura around them was a medley of all their graces: blue and white, mixed with blood red and specks of green, golden, silver and more colors than Dean could count.

Instinctively the crowd moved away and kept fighting around them, leaving a circle in the middle with the new group of angels on one side and Lucifer with his minions on the other. A strange kind of silence filled the air at the center of the square as Michael and Lucifer sized one another up. The snap of wings broke the heavy quietness surrounding the group and an angel advanced on Michael, sword ready to run him through. Michael muttered something Dean couldn’t hear and lifted his hand. Streams of white-gold grace rammed into the angel, leaving nothing but chunks of blazing flesh and burned feathers.

Michael turned his attention to his brother again. “Brother, please let us end this madness,” he roared.

“It’s too late for that, Michael.” Lucifer tightened his fingers around his angel blade. “You’re either with me or on the side of these lower life forms you call humans. It’s your last chance.”

“Look around you, Lucifer. Even if you outnumber us, we are stronger. _I am_  stronger than you. You can’t defeat me.”

“We will have to see about that.” Lucifer bobbed his head.

From the corner of his eye Dean saw Inias discreetly draw his sword; the angel nodded, his gaze locked with Lucifer’s, and raised the blade – but it wasn’t a regular angel blade, it was a longsword, with onyx metal and blood-red engravings. Dean had seen that sword before…

Dean inhaled sharply. _The sword from Cas’ memories._

“Cas!” All heads turned to him when Dean plunged forward, desperately pointing at Inias. “The poisoned sword!”

Understanding dawned on Cas’ face after the first shock of seeing Dean there. He jerked his head in Inias’ direction right as the angel charged at Michael, ready to drive the blade into his back.

Castiel leaped forward, eyes flashing blue and silver as he shoved Inias to the ground. The angel growled in frustration, jumping to his feet, ready to strike again.

“No!” Cas yelled, his voice roaring and echoing through the square before a loud explosion of silver and blue broke from his palm, shattering the nearest windows with the force from the blast and ripping a deep screech from the other angel’s lungs. Inias fell heavily on the ground and stopped moving.

Lucifer grinned and raised his sword, bringing it down in a smooth gesture. “Now!”

Five new angels descended from the sky, surrounding them in a close circle.

“Attack!” Michael shouted and surged forward.

Everything happened at once, faster than Dean’s eyes could track: clashing swords, flashes of grace and the detonations that followed. Piercing wails tore through the square, followed by the smell of burned flesh, making the small hairs at the back of Dean’s neck stand on end.

Dean drew his sword. “Sam, get ready.”

They both launched straight into the chaos. One of Lucifer’s soldiers was on him immediately. Dean took a step to the side, dodging the attack. He spun in a circle to bury his sword in the angel’s back, between his wings. The angel howled in pain and fell down, and Dean took the opportunity to check on his brother out of the corner of his eye. Sam had just put another one down, with Anna by his side ready to finish the angel off. Dean felt a swell of pride blossoming in his chest.

The angel Dean had skewered pulled away, pulling the blade out of his back in the process.

“Shit,” Dean rasped under his breath. He straightened up and spread his legs, readying himself for the next attack. The angel was bleeding profusely – Dean had made sure of that when he twisted the blade as it had slid into the flesh – so when he lunged, Dean wasn’t expecting such a hard blow.

His back hit the ground with a sharp thud and it was Dean’s turn to cry out in agony. “Fuck.”

To his side, Naomi wasn’t any better than him. And right behind her, Gabriel was on the ground, laying completely still. The attacker was just about to kill Gabriel when Michael landed at his side and dispatched him in a single blow. Dean sighed in relief as he saw Gabriel moving his head weakly.

That relief was short lived as Dean quickly remembered he had his own battle to finish. He grunted and stood, trying to catch his breath, but the angel’s hands closed in around his throat. Dean gasped in surprise as the angel tightened his grip and pulled Dean’s feet off the ground.

A white iron blade sliced through one of the angel’s wings, who let go of Dean with a wail and crumbled to the ground, revealing Sam behind him. He smirked at Dean. “Are you getting too old for this or what?”

“Shut it, Samantha.”

Balthazar’s growl snapped Dean’s head around. Lucifer hit him twice with the pommel of his angel blade, then pulled back and plunged the blade in his chest. Balthazar screamed in pain.

Before Dean could react, Sam had raced across the distance that separated them from Lucifer and blocked Lucifer’s next strike with his sword.

“Sam!” Dean yelled. “Damn it!”

Lucifer let go of Balthazar, who fell flat on the ground. “You damn Winchesters, always getting in my way.” He raised his hand at Sam, sparks of red and black coming to life in the palm of his hand.

Dean’s heart dropped. “No!” he shouted as another angel landed between Lucifer and his brother, his black wings stretched widely in front of Sam, protecting him from Lucifer’s rage.

“Castiel, I will kill you if I mu—” Castiel punched Lucifer, making him stagger a step back. Lucifer looked surprised for a moment, spitting out the sudden rush of blood in his mouth to the ground, before he covered it up with a lopsided grin. “I see you’ve learn some new tricks.”

Castiel looked at his hand with a smug expression, flexing his fingers. “What was it? Fists work just fine, right?” Castiel raised his hand to Lucifer, but a high-pitched scream stopped his attack. He turned just as a lightning ball of green and gray slammed Anna through the nearby wall, killing her instantly.

Cas’ eyes grew wide in shock as he shook his head, staring at his sister lying motionless on the ground. A broken sob tore from his lungs as he muttered, “No.”

Another angel landed next to Cas and turned to Sam, gripping his neck with a snarl.

Before Dean could shout out for his brother, Castiel whirled around, his eyes blindingly blue as the air around him crackled and charged with lightning. Strong winds surged up around him, shoving everyone back. Blue and silver exploded all around and Cas raised both of his hands, his face emotionless as he looked at the angel holding Sam and let all the energy go.

Every single black-winged angel in the clearing screamed in sheer agony, collapsing on the ground, their hands clutching at their heads as they curled in on themselves to keep Cas’ outburst of grace from invading their bodies. Dean gasped as they started to disintegrate.

Castiel snapped his wings wide open, his grace illuminating his whole body in shades of blue and silver as the roar of the cyclone muted everyone’s screams.

Lucifer backed away in quick jerky steps; his harried face was proof that he was probably as surprised as Dean by the demonstration of Castiel’s power.

Dean managed to take a few steps against the whirlwind and reach for his brother. “Are you okay?” he screamed to force his voice through the wind.

Sam nodded quickly and Dean looked at Cas, still too far for him to reach. Dean turned his head to where Lucifer had stopped. The angel was panting for air, his hand raised to his brother while he shouted words Dean couldn’t make out over the roaring storm.

Suddenly the storm calmed, giving way to a comfortable breeze and Castiel’s legs buckled beneath him for an instant before he composed himself. Dean leaped forward, tripping over the dead bodies and across the bloody ground. “Cas,” he gasped.

Dean could see Lucifer had heard him from the way his body tensed and he stopped in his tracks, turning his attention away from Cas. “Perhaps getting rid of the object of your affections will cut you deeper, my little brother,” Lucifer barked.

Fire and pitch black ripped from Lucifer’s palm, grace scorching the air. “Dean!” Sam yelled, but his voice dissolved into the background as the approaching flames turned Dean’s world red.

Dean held his breath, waiting for the pain, but before the flames could touch him, his view turned blue. A vast, calming ocean enveloped him as Castiel leaped forward: back turned to the flaming lights, black wings stretched out to block Dean from the blast.

“Cas! _No!_ ” Dean tried to reach for him as Lucifer’s grace hit Cas, twisting his face in pain, his blood-curdling shrieks piercing the air as flesh and skin broke apart and feathers burned to cinders. Cas closed his eyes and collapsed. Dean launched forward and dropped to his knees, catching Cas as he hit the ground.

“Cas.” Dean shook him, Cas’ head falling slack against Dean’s shoulder and his body limp between his arms. “Cas?” he tried again. “Please…”

Dean could hear voices around him, yelling, arguing and growing louder, but he wasn’t listening, not when his whole world was lying motionless in his arms. Dean pulled Castiel closer and clung to him.

“Cas, can you hear me?” The only thing moving between them was the blood pouring through the deep gashes in Castiel’s body and soaking Dean’s legs and the ground around them.

“Please open your eyes,” Dean said feebly and hoped for some reaction, some sign that life was still in there, but Cas remained dreadfully still. _No, please don’t. Please don’t let this happen._

Lucifer hovered above him, merely a couple of steps from them, but Dean didn’t care. Dean cradled Cas’ face, his hand coming up stained in red as he caressed the angel’s cheek. Dean tightened his hold, his breath wavering in his chest as he tried to keep Cas’ body warm. “Cas… baby, wake up.” Dean pressed their cheeks together, his voice cracking as he whispered pleas into the angel’s ear. “You promised, remember? You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

Castiel wasn’t breathing, the soft puffs Dean expected to feel against his neck weren’t coming. Dean took a shaky inhale; Cas’ deep blue eyes remained sealed despite Dean’s attempts. There was only red now, smudging the world around them, tainting each black feather with blood. Dean sobbed, his eyes burning with tears as he rocked them back and forth.

Lucifer started talking, hands raised toward them, ready to attack again. Dean looked up; his vision blurred, but he wasn’t afraid of what might happen to him anymore.

“Lucifer!” Michael screamed from the other side. He had Sam’s weapon on and was pointing it at Lucifer. Lucifer looked in Michael’s direction just as the weapon activated and erupted into an immense blast that filled the whole area with pure white light.

Dean ducked his head, bringing the arm not holding Castiel up to cover their heads. When he looked up again, Lucifer’s carbonized body dropped down and disintegrated into ashes as it touched the ground, leaving a gust of black feathers as the only evidence of the angel’s existence.

Dean felt his brother clutching at his left shoulder, but he didn’t look up; he had his eyes on Cas, slowly rocking them back and forth, his fingers carefully raking through Cas’ hair as he held him tight.

Michael hobbled the few steps separating them, skidding to a halt in front of Dean before slumping to his knees. His face contorted with despair before settling into grim concentration, hand still shaking as it hovered above his brother’s chest. “He’s still alive,” he exhaled in relief. “Barely, but there is still life in him.”

“Can you save him?” Dean ignored the crack in his voice and the tears running down his cheeks and gazed up at Michael.

“We would need to take him to Cupid and give him some of our soul supplies. But the infirmary was attacked and our rations were destroyed.” Michael shook his head. “And in any case, Castiel isn’t capable of absorbing any human soul on his own in his current state.”

“Can’t you, like, transfer what he needs to him?”

Michael balled his hands into fists. “Haven’t you heard me? Our supplies were destroyed. We don’t have any souls left.”

“There’s mine.” Michael’s eyes widened as Dean continued, “If I gave him my soul, could you save him?”

“Dean!” Sam interjected.

Dean ignored his brother’s protests, his eyes locked on Michael’s intense gaze. “Could you do it?” Dean insisted.

“Dean! It’s too dangerous. _You could die._ ”

“Sam!” Dean snapped back, finally looking up at his brother, but the harshness in his tone softened as soon as he met Sammy’s expression – his brother was just as afraid of losing him as Dean was of losing Cas. Dean inhaled a sharp breath and forced his voice to remain even. “I have to try, Sam. If there’s a chance…” Dean shook his head slowly. “I can’t lose him.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek and looked away.

“You would do the same if it were Jess, wouldn’t you? If it was me?” The muscles in Sam’s face tightened and finally he nodded his okay.

Dean addressed Michael again. “Can you save him?” The angel had his gaze fixed on him; the regular glacial way he used to look at Dean was now quiet and sad, making his eyes resemble Castiel’s for the first time.

Michael’s mouth hang open, but he didn’t speak, tucking some of Cas’ hair away from his forehead. “If you do this, I can’t guarantee that you will survive.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Michael looked up. “Would you really be willing to give your life for him?”

Dean clenched his jaw and didn’t reply.

“It’s possible,” Michael confirmed and squared his shoulders.

“Then do it,” Dean replied before turning to Sammy. “See you in a bit.” Dean tried to smile with as much reassurance as possible.

“Don’t you dare die,” Sam whispered, half mocking, half begging.

“Hey,” Dean shrugged. “I survived a war and one pain in the ass of a brother, didn’t I? This will be like a walk in the park.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s wink and huffed.

Dean looked back to the angel. “I’m ready, do it.”

Michael pressed his left hand against Cas’ chest and the other against Dean’s.

“You don’t stop, okay?” Dean growled. “I don’t care how much of my soul you take. Until Cas wakes up, you don’t stop, you hear me?”

“I understand.” Michael nodded once and waited for Dean’s own nod to let him know he could start.

The sudden stab of pain made Dean gasp. Golden-white light erupted beneath Michael’s palms and daggers of searing white heat drove into Dean. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth to keep himself from screaming.

Michael’s grace forced its way under his skin, wrapping claws around his heart and pumping sheer agony through his veins. Dean gasped and blinked back the tears stinging his eyes, his vision blurring in a mix of white and gold. The grace burrowed deeper, invaded his lungs and his breath, divided him atom by atom until it found what it had come for.

Dean cried out, his voice hoarse and quivering as the grace surged forward to bury its teeth in his soul. Each drop of his essence just made it greedier, and Dean clung to Cas’ limp body like a lifeline while Michael stripped him bare. He felt his soul rumbling to the surface, bursting through his skin, leaving nothing but void in its wake.

He couldn’t hold in his screams any longer, each one louder than the one before; the pain was unbearable and Dean could feel each drop of his soul being taken away from him, piece by piece, ripped and plucked and dragged out as he screamed one last time and felt the last of his soul dying with him.

While the dulling ache numbed his senses and drove him into darkness, Dean saw them – pure blue like the ocean opening up and looking back at him. And as his favorite color started beating with life again, he tried to hold on to the feeling of Cas’ lips against his, but it was too late. Dean closed his eyes and dreamed of a world in blue.

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Dean woke up to the warmth of the blazing sun soothing his body. He licked his lips and scrunched up his face against the bad taste in his mouth.

His mind was hazy and muddled as the last fragments of sleep were chased away by two realizations. One, he wasn’t in his bedroom; that much he knew without even having to open his eyes. But he felt at peace here, under the silky smooth sheets with a breeze kissing his uncovered chest and his beat-up body.

His second realization though, was what made him open his eyes. A warm body, stretched against his own, firm and slim, moving beside him and caressing his skin.

Dean’s lashes fluttered open as he tried to acclimate to the bright light streaming through the window and check his surroundings. The fireplace at his left was empty, but it was warm and soothing, as the white linen curtains floated lazily against the wide mahogany window frame. He was nestled in a large bed at the center of the bedroom. _Cas’ bedroom_. A mess of dark hair rested on his shoulder and Dean smiled, burying his nose in it until the source of hair moved and the blue he had dreamed about was looking right back at him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas muttered with a dopey smile.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him closer and nosing at his cheek. “Am I in heaven?” he mumbled with a sigh of contentment.

Cas chuckled quietly, his breath ghosting warm over Dean’s skin. “I wish. Maybe there we would both be recovered by now.”

Dean’s eyes widened with the sudden rush of memories. He jolted to a sitting position and instantly hissed as a surge of pain shot through his entire body.

“I think it’s wiser if you don’t make any sudden moves, Dean,” Cas said, helping him to lean back into the pillows and immediately burrowing himself into Dean’s side.

“I don’t care.” Dean shifted abruptly so they were facing each other. He cradled Cas’ face in his hands, his lips trembling as he gasped, “Cas?” Dean took a shaky breath. “You’re alive… Oh god, you’re alive.”

“Dean–”

Whatever Cas was going to say was muffled by Dean’s lips on his. Dean nibbled tenderly, warm breath pushing its way into Cas’ mouth as Dean traced his lips with his tongue before slipping inside. Dean panted and deepened the kiss, his fingers digging bruises into Cas’ skin while Dean kissed him feverishly, trying to erase the last memory of Cas from his mind – the blood staining his wings, Cas’ body, unmoving, unbreathing – replacing it with the soft breathy moans and the way Cas moved against him now. His eyes, now bluer than never, looked tenderly back at Dean when they pulled away, his kiss-swollen lips curling up into a smile as they caught their breath.

“I thought you were dead.” Dean swallowed the tremor in his voice. “There was so much blood, and I called for you, I kept calling for you but you wouldn’t open your eyes, there was no reaction and I–”

“I’m here, Dean, I’m all right,” Cas leaned in and kissed his nose, his wings carefully tucking Dean close as his fingertips drew imaginary lines along Dean’s back, slowly soothing his heartbeat.

“So it worked…”

“Your soul kept my grace alive.” Cas nodded against his forehead.

“Good…” Dean breathed in relief.

“No, not good.” Cas pulled back with a frown. “It was terrible, Dean. A terrible idea. What if it hadn’t worked? What if I had consumed your soul completely? Do you have any idea the risk you took? Giving your soul to an ex-soul reaper like myself when I was unconscious and with no control over my grace? I could have killed you.”

“I knew the risks, Cas. And I don’t regret it for a minute.”

“I could have lost you…” Cas trailed off, watching him through his wet eyelashes.

“I’ve made a promise, remember?” Dean pressed closer to kiss the angel’s cheek and murmur into his skin. “I’ll always come back to you, Cas.”

“Promise there’s no more _come back_ , only  _staying_ , here, together,” Cas mumbled and closed his eyes, nuzzling against Dean’s cheek as he tightened his embrace, his eyes brimming with tears when he pulled back.

“I promise, Cas.”

“Dean… There’s something I need to–”

“Dean?” Sam burst inside. “You’re awake!” He flung himself toward the bed and pulled Dean into a bone crushing hug. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of us.”

Dean huffed. “Don’t tell me you doubted I could make it? C’mon, don’t you know me? Awesome is my middle name.”

“Well there he is. Back to normal with his usual lame jokes.”

“They’re not lame, you love it.”

“Yeah, yeah, jerk,” Sam said, grinning from ear to ear, perched at the edge of the bed like a little kid.

“Bitch,” Dean replied and smiled back.

“So how are you feeling?”

“Good, all things considered.” Dean tightened his arm around Cas’ shoulder and pulled him to his chest.

“Yeah, you were in pretty bad shape for the first couple of days.” Sam’s voice was beaming with excitement despite the serious subject.

“Days?” Dean asked. “How long have I been out?”

“One week,” Cas said. “Michael worked day and night to keep you alive.”

“Michael?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up as he looked between Cas and Sammy.

“Yes.” Sam scratched his stubble. “He pretty much saved your life… Which is… like a whole new parallel universe kind of thing.”

“Michael saved my life.” Dean huffed and shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s one thing I never thought I would hear.” He chuckled. “He must be pissed that he had to do that.”

“He volunteered to do it, actually,” Cas mumbled against his chest. “Everyone was drained after the battle, but Michael said he was strong enough to do it.”

“Wow.” Dean slumped his head against his pillow. “What about Lucifer’s army.

“Most of them were killed, others fled, but all throughout the world we’re slowly gaining ground and defeating them.”

Dean’s eyes slowly fluttered closed, before he jerked his head up. “What about Inias? He had the poisoned sword, Cas!” He clutched at the angel. “He was the one who attacked you three years ago, wasn’t he?”

Cas caressed Dean’s cheek and hushed his panic. “Yes.” Cas nodded slowly, his eyes focusing on him, and Dean let himself get consumed by those reassuring pools of blue until he was breathing evenly again. “We’re keeping him as our prisoner and he ended up confessing everything. He was working under Lucifer’s command all this time. He had been following everyone’s moves to report back to Lucifer and when Inias found out I was leaving the castle, he planned the attack so it would look like a group of humans had done it. His intention was to make the relationship between humans and angels worse so that more angels would join Lucifer’s army.”

“Dean-o!” The door burst open and Gabe rushed in, his arms wide open. “Well, won’t you look at that? Glad to see my brother was able to save your sorry ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you’re okay too, Gabe.” He grunted in surprise when the angel hugged him, a little harder than Dean had expected based on Gabe’s mocking words.

“I’m glad you and my brother are finally okay,” Gabe whispered. By the time he pulled away his face was back to its usual cheerful expression, with no trace of the emotions that had colored his voice.

“Dean?”

“Mom?” Dean said, heart stuck in his throat.

“My dear son.” Mary pulled him into her arms and he nuzzled against her hair, breathing her sweet scent. “I was so worried.”

“It’s okay, Mom, you don’t have to worry now.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “Thank God you’re safe.”

“Well,” Gabriel chimed in. “Technically, thank Michael.”

Dean heard the angel whining when someone poked at him.

“Are you all right?” Jessica came into Dean’s view once Mary pulled away.

“I’m peachy,” he replied, beaming at his family.

 

 

Dean wasn’t entirely peachy, though, and the next weeks were pure torture. He felt like a bomb had exploded inside him. Well, if Dean thought hard about it, that was exactly what had happened. But Dean never thought it would take him so much time to recover. He hadn’t died from his injuries, but he was sure he would die from the boredom that had become his life – just lying in Cas’ bed, doing nothing but sleeping, eating and swallowing whatever pill or concoction was put in front of him.

Dean’s nights were spend in Cas’ arms underneath his soft sheets. Cupid had tried to convince him to move to the infirmary, which would be _in the best interest of everyone involved_ , he had said, but Cas had refused vehemently. Cupid had sighed in resignation and had left them alone.

The rest of his family took turns staying with Dean during the day. When they weren’t by Dean’s side, they were out there helping out rebuild the city. There was chaos everywhere, from what they had told Dean – cleaning up to do, buildings to reconstruct, other people still recovering from their wounds who needed help – but everyone was doing their share and slowly the city was coming back to life.

Dean hadn’t seen Michael since the day of the battle. Not that Dean was complaining, the guy was an asshole most of the time. But still, now he was an asshole who had saved Dean’s life. And most importantly, he had saved Cas’, and Dean would always be grateful for that.

Cas had told him Michael had been out of the castle most of the time during the last couple of weeks, either helping around the city, or out of the kingdom to meet with other angels and help defeat the last of Lucifer’s army. With Lucifer gone, his army had lost their commander, and the troops had been overrun easily.

 

 

As another week passed, Dean was back at being able to stay upright. Walking felt amazing after such a long time forced to stay horizontal.

Castiel had been gone for two days, visiting other kingdoms. Dean was left to explore the corridors and find his way to the kitchen, where he quickly made friends with all the amazing cooks that worked there.

“You do heaven’s work here,” Dean told them. And how appropriate was that since they worked for _holy-ass angels_ , right? Dean found himself hilarious, and said so to the people in the kitchen when they didn’t share the same enthusiasm for his pun.

Dean was about to go meet his mother in the Music Room, when Michael turned the corner, almost bumping into him and knocking him down.

“Dean,” he gasped.

“Michael.” He tried to sound cordial and not as awkward as he felt. Dean wasn’t sure how to behave now. He had learned to hate the guy. They only knew how to have one type of conversation: hostile. But now? He didn’t know what their relationship with each other was exactly.

 “How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right,” he said. After a moment’s hesitation he added, “Can we talk? Privately?”

Michael looked surprised, but nodded. “I was heading to the Royal Chapel.” He motioned for Dean to follow him. “Why don’t you join me?”

The chapel was on the other side of the castle, past the great hall. They remained in silence for the rest of the walk, their soft footsteps filling the vast corridors and greeting whoever walked past them. Dean tried to ignore the wide eyes and surprised gasps from most of the people who saw the two of them walking together. He couldn’t really blame them; this was one of the most surreal experiences of Dean’s life, and he had seen some crazy shit in his day.

The two-story high chapel was empty when they moved past the elegant arched brown doors that led towards the main entry. Dean felt grateful he could have this conversation with Michael without prying eyes watching them. They stayed in the lower part of the chapel instead of going to the upper floor where Michael and his family used to sit.

The angel followed the main corridor framed by the sitting area, touching the twin columns on either side as he moved past them and coming to a stop at the front of the room. “What did you want to talk about?” Michael had his back turned to him, leaving no chance for Dean to see his face, but his voice remained as emotionless as always, and Dean was starting to think this had been a bad idea.

“Uh, well.” Dean cleared his throat. “I still haven’t had the opportunity to thank you. For saving me, for saving Cas. That was… I will always appreciate that.”

“You appreciate me saving Castiel, even though I almost killed you in the process?”

“I told you, I didn’t care what it took as long as you saved him.”

Michael laced his hands behind his back, watching the perfectly neat altar, made of pure gold and exquisite handmade details. Dean found himself contemplating it, the way it rose majestically almost up to the ceiling that was painted in rich and elaborate designs of various shades of gold. The atmosphere was serene and calming and Dean let himself bask in it for a moment.

“Does he really mean that much to you? That you would give your life so willingly for him?” came Michael’s voice after a few beats.

Dean felt his cheeks burning but he didn’t hesitate in his answer. “Yes.”

Michael turned around, the light from the stained glass window painting colors across his long hair. “When my brother went missing three years ago, Inias came to me and he was the one who told me Castiel wasn’t in his room.” Michael sighed. “I put every single angel in the city to work looking for him and when we couldn’t find him I was certain you had something to do with it. That’s why I went to your house and how I came to find your father and plan your disappearance.”

“You mean kicking my ass almost to death and kidnapping me for three years,” Dean added, not able to contain the anger that had followed him around ever since that day. It still hurt to think about; there were scars and traumas that would carry on with him for the rest of his life.

The fact that his father had tried to make it up to Dean in the end and the way Michael had saved both his and Cas’ lives had helped to soothe some of the constant sorrow carved in his chest. But Dean couldn’t forgive them for what they had done.

Michael nodded and hung his head. “I was on my way to you that night when I was informed that Castiel had been found almost dead, attacked by a group of humans. I blamed it on you and my actions that night against you were all fueled by revenge.” He paused to take a deep breath. “A leader should never allow that to happen.”

“No kidding.”

“I owe you an apology.”

Dean’s mouth gaped in surprise. “Really?”

“Is this so inconceivable to you?”

“Uh, yeah, you know, we were never much for apologies. More of a ‘punch, stab, kill you slowly’ kind of situation.”

Michael laughed softly; his eyes had lost that coldness so inherent to him as he stared at Dean with a peaceful expression. “I’ve tried my best to protect my brothers and sisters, you see? And in my mind, our connection with the humans could only be about the pact. Honor our part. Do our end of the deal. That was it. It seemed easy enough.” He huffed and exhaled slowly. “Anything more than that could ruin the peace we fought so hard to achieve.”

Michael gazed absently at some invisible point at the wall behind Dean. “In the end, it was my own kin, my brothers, who almost ruined us.” He clenched his jaw and met Dean’s eyes. “But you saved Castiel and you were willing to die for him. You were his salvation. Not me, not the other angels. One human. Who knew that the angel with black wings could only be saved by a human soul?”

Dean looked away and shifted his feet against the lustrous stone floor.

“You really love my brother?”

“I do.”

“And you plan on staying with him, marrying him, being part of this family?”

“Uh, well.” Dean ran his hand through his hair. “We haven’t actually planned that far ahead, I mean we just got our shit together.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Michael cocked an eyebrow at him and Dean cleared his throat. “But yes, I do. If he will have me.”

Michael smiled at him and his eyes were disarming and carefree as Dean had never seen them before. “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

They stared at one another in silence, taking in the new peace they had managed to find between them. Michael tucked his wings behind him and crossed the short distance separating them, extending his hand for Dean to shake. Dean looked at it for a moment and took it.

Michael reached with his other hand to grasp Dean’s between his two. “All right then,” Michael said solemnly, before he turned around and headed for the exit. “Thank you, Dean Winchester,” he said without looking back, leaving Dean with mouth hanging open and eyes wide in the middle of the chapel.

“Well shit.” Dean huffed before looking at the altar and realizing he had just cursed. “Uh, sorry, you… holy grace.” He did a cross-shaped motion over his chest awkwardly and left.

 

  

The next day, Dean took Baby and together they rode away from the castle and back to the place that had brought him so many good memories. It was the beginning of July, and Cas and Dean’s secret place was brimming with wisteria trees in full bloom; they filled the whole place with an explosion of purples and dark pinks.

Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The air was rich with the sweetness of flowers and a fresh earthy smell, and he let himself relax to the melody of numerous birds celebrating the arrival of warm and sunny days.

The flap of wings made him open his eyes. Cas landed right behind him and surged forward, quickly crossing the space separating them and taking Dean into his arms. “Cas? Weren’t you supposed to be out of town?”

“I was.” Cas sighed, closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together. “But I had to come back, I just… I missed you.”

“Cas,” Dean chuckled and nudged their noses together. “You’ve only been gone for two days–”

“I know it’s silly…” he said, voice shuddering. “But I just can’t do it. Not now that I just got you back, not with the way I can still feel your soul wrapped around my grace, moving underneath my skin, the way they fit together… the same way we do.”

Dean pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. “It’s not silly, baby, I feel the same way.”

“I need to tell you something.” Cas pulled back, his forehead furrowed in concern. “I tried to tell you before but there were always people around and–” He cleared his throat, his blue eyes locking with Dean’s as he rubbed slow circles on Dean’s back. “Something happened when you gave me your soul.”

“Okay?”

Cas gulped. “You were dying, Dean. Your soul was dying and in the middle of it all, I guess my grace couldn’t let you go. So… well,” he trailed off and looked away.

“Just say it, Cas, I’m getting a little worried over here.”

“Remember Claire?”

“The cat?”

“Yes.” Cas nodded and met his gaze, his blues filled with worry and Dean instinctively reached for him, thumb rubbing along his cheek in a soothing pace. “Remember how part of my grace got transferred to her?”

“Yeah…”

“There’s part of my grace in you, Dean,” Cas whispered. “That’s why you survived. My grace fitted itself to your soul so it wouldn’t die from the damage the transference did to you.”

“So, what? Am I going to have angel powers now and all of that?”

“No. If it goes like Claire did, everything will be the exact same except that your life will be linked to mine.”

“In other words, I die when you die.”

“Yes,” Cas muttered and looked down.

“Well, shit.” Dean pulled away, rubbing his neck and facing the green wisteria tree.

“I know it’s a shock, suddenly knowing that you’re linked to me for the rest of your life…”

Dean huffed.

“Though I’m not saying you have to be _linked_ to me, I mean, I don’t mind,” he rambled and Dean smiled; even without seeing the angel he could imagine him gesticulating nervously, a slight shade of pink covering his cheeks as he kept talking. “But what I’m trying to say is, well, you’re not under any obligation, or even any commitment, I mean–”

“Stop talking, Cas.” Dean faced Cas again and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his waist to pull the blushing angel to him. “Even before knowing this, I wouldn’t have had a problem being _linked to you_ , you know?”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Cas was looking at him with a slight head tilt that reminded Dean of that first night they had met, when the angel had remarked that the wisteria trees weren’t technically trees. To this day, Dean still called them trees anyway. “I’ve been connected to you from the moment you left your handprint on me.” Dean pulled him tighter against him, sliding his hands up and down Cas’ back. “I’ve been yours ever since. With or without your grace inside me, I already belonged to you.”

Cas buried his head into the crook of Dean’s neck and sighed. “Dean,” he mumbled into his skin, lips pressed lazily to his neck.

Dean pulled back and pecked Cas’ lips, heart soaring in his chest and eyes meeting Cas’ with an unwavering hold. “Marry me.”

Cas’ mouth gaped slightly. “What?”

“What do you say? You already tried, what? Two times?”

Cas huffed.

“So what do you think? Third time’s a charm?”

Cas grinned, beautiful lines forming around his eyes as he leaned closer, their lips brushing together around the word, “Yes.”

They kissed for the longest time, melting into each other, their hearts beating in unison, slowly finding their pace together.

 

 

They left the castle the following week, once Dean was mostly healed and ready to leave. He adjusted the strap of his duffle bag on his shoulder and extended his hand to Cas. “Ready to go home?”

Cas beamed at him. “Yes.”

They mounted Chevro and after a few steps Dean couldn’t help but notice the shades of purple coloring the angel’s garden. He slowed his horse to a stop and frowned. “Are those wisteria trees?”

“Yes,” Cas replied cheerfully against his neck. “I told Michael that if he wanted me to continue looking after the garden, it would have to be my way, and that included a few wisteria trees. I told him he was welcome to give me suggestions, but that was it.”

Dean laughed. “Good for you, baby, I’m proud.”

When they got home, Sam and Jess were already there to help them with what little luggage they had. They were going back the next day to bring the last of Cas’ possessions here, which Cas had said wasn’t much. If all went well, Cas would officially move to Dean’s house – their house, now – by the end of the week.

It was the end of the day when they finished settling Cas in and Dean found his brother by the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee. He got up when he saw Dean and poured some for him.

“Thanks.” Dean smiled.

Sam smiled back and clinked their mugs together. “So I’ve heard the news. You popped the question, huh? Who knew?”

“Jess told you?! I’m gonna strangle that brat! I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Hey, hey, if it’s any consolation I had to torture it out of her.” Sam chuckled. “She was pretty depressed after she gave in.”

“Yeah, it serves her right,” Dean said around a grin and sipped his coffee. When he looked away from his mug, Sam was biting his bottom lip, his hands clasped around his mug as he leaned closer.

“I have good news too. Jess told me not to tell anyone yet because it’s kinda soon, but I need to share it with you.”

Dean leaned in as well, not entirely sure why, but whispering nonetheless. “Go for it.”

“Jess is pregnant.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna have a child.”

“Oh my god!” Dean clasped Sam by the shoulder and he gasped in surprise when Dean pulled him into a one-armed hug. “I’m gonna be an uncle, this is awesome!”

Sam chuckled against his shoulder. “You’re gonna be a great uncle.”

“And you’re gonna be a great dad. Congrats, Sammy.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

 

 

When Dean got to the bedroom he took Cas by the hand and twirled him around, before pulling him flush against his chest.

“What was that for?” Cas asked breathlessly, his body relaxing against Dean’s.

“I’m happy.” Dean shrugged and started peppering soft kisses along Cas’ neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps up to Cas’ chin at a lazy pace.

Dean rested their foreheads together; Castiel shivered and sighed, watching him through half lidded eyes, his breath catching in his throat when Dean leaned in and nibbled at the sensitive skin behind his ear. “I need you…” Dean murmured, his voice husky. Castiel nuzzled his nose against Dean’s hair, lips forming a smile against the nape of Dean’s neck as he tugged at his hand and dragged them to bed.

Soft, plump lips met Dean’s as they fell over the bed, gasping slowly and already parted for Dean to push inside. Dean tangled his fingers in his hair and thrust down, swallowing Cas’ broken moan. Cas’ mouth was warm and addictive, his face rough with stubble, and Dean felt like he was slowly drowning in this moment: the small gasps of air leaving Cas’ lips, and the way he shuddered Dean’s name as they rutted against each other.

Dean raked his nails along Cas’ sides, slowly coaxing the angel to remove his shirt, and doing the same with his own.

When Dean met Cas again, the angel was a wonderful mess of disheveled hair, red and swollen lips and dark pupils, his eyes shining beautifully under the moonlight as he looked up at Dean and held his face between his hands.

Cas smiled softly, fingers digging into Dean’s neck, pulling their mouths together, breaths heavy and hot, their desperate moans echoing against the quiet walls as their crotches ground against each other again.

Dean whimpered, voice broken and hoarse as he sucked a bruise on Cas’ neck. Castiel took a sharp intake of breath and ground his hips against him.

“Dean,” Castiel purred against his ear. He flicked the tip of his tongue and slowly licked at Dean’s lobe before taking it between sharp teeth and pushing their hips together at a steady rhythm. “I want to feel you,” he rasped, barely audible. “Inside me.”

“Fuck,” Dean choked out, embarrassingly close to coming at the sound of Cas’ husky voice alone. He could hear his own heartbeat speeding up, feeling the angel writhing and panting loudly beneath him, the way his solid muscles flexed under Dean’s care as he moved down Cas’ body.

He left a hot trail of kisses down Cas’ neck, his teeth scraping one of his nipples and latching on to it. Cas moaned softly and leaned his head back against the pillow. “I want you, Dean.”

Dean watched Cas as he licked his way down his stomach. “Say that again.”

“I want you,” Castiel breathed and fisted Dean’s hair. “I want you so much.”

Dean moaned and sucked at Cas’ hipbone until it was red and swollen. He hooked his fingers on the waistband of Cas’ pants, Castiel lifted his ass and with one swift movement, Dean pulled them down, leaving him completely naked at last.

Dean pulled back, taking a moment to watch him. The angel was panting hard, his dark wings fluttering uncontrollably at his sides, and his cock thick and heavy, leaking precome against his stomach. He was fucking beautiful.

“Are you going to keep staring or do you plan on doing something about it?”

Dean chuckled. “Getting eager, are we?”

Cas ignored him and pointed at one of the drawers where Dean usually kept the oil. Dean snapped the lid open, pouring it onto his fingers before he settled down between Castiel’s legs.

Dean leaned in, kissing the inside of Cas’ thigh as he swirled one slick finger against his entrance. Cas released a shaky sigh when Dean pushed inside, working him open at a slow pace, and began to suck another mark on his thigh. “More,” Castiel gasped and Dean added a second finger, nibbling at the skin above the hard curve of Cas’ hipbone, his stubble grazing against the angel’s cock, which he pointedly ignored.

Castiel clutched at his hair and released a new frustrated sound, but Dean moved to the other side of his stomach, leaving his cock untouched.

Soon Dean’s fingers were moving easily and a third finger joined in. Dean twisted them back and forth, scissoring them and working the tight muscles open, prodding his fingers against the tight flesh until he hit Cas’ sweet spot. Castiel arched his back and grasped blindly at the sheets, groaning low and deep around Dean’s name while he rubbed small, insistent circles against Cas’ prostate.

“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.”

“D-Dean. Please. I’m ready, Dean.”

Dean gently pulled out his fingers and removed his own pants, freeing his straining erection with a sigh. He grabbed one of the pillows and placed it under Cas’ ass for better access, smearing a generous amount of oil around his cock and aligning himself with Cas’ entrance.

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat as he felt Cas’ muscles clenching in anticipation. He smiled, teasingly rubbing the tip of his cock against the puckering hole.

Dean glanced up and all intention of teasing went away. Castiel was looking right back at him through his eyelashes, lovely blues burning through him and pillowy, rosy lips whispering Dean’s name like he was the most precious thing in the world. Cas’ chest was heaving up and down as he fisted his hands in the sheets, wings splayed out and shaking, all bare and unguarded, and fuck if that wasn’t the most disarming thing in the world.

“Cas…” Dean whispered.

Castiel smiled reverently. “I love you,” he said, voice completely raw and wrecked, and Dean pressed inside with a whimper.

The instant sensation around Dean’s cock was both exquisite and agonizing. Castiel was impossibly tight around him, his muscles warm and clenching around his head. Dean whimpered low in his throat and pushed his hips forward, slowly, gently, using all his willpower not to go faster. He slid in deeper, gasping through each inch until he was all the way inside.

Dean’s whole body was shaking when he bottomed out. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, covering Castiel’s body with his.

Castiel hooked his legs and arms around him and kissed his temple. “Dean, are you okay?”

Dean breathed into the nape of Cas’ neck, taking in the feeling of Cas, warm and pliant around him, focusing on the angel’s heartbeat against his as the world slowly faded outside and there were only the two of them left. Nothing else mattered anymore, no war, no angels trying to keep them apart. Just this, Dean sealed inside Cas, belonging to him just as much as Cas belonged to him.

“Dean?” Cas repeated and Dean noticed he wasn’t moving and his face was wet. He probably looked like a fucking mess.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that?” he mumbled, voice muffled against Cas’ neck.

“I’m good.” Castiel nuzzled against his hair.

“You’re fucking tight.” Dean grimaced at his own words. _That’s friggin’ tactful, Dean, way to ruin the moment._

Castiel gulped and hesitated. “Since this is my first time, that’s to be expected.”

Dean raised his head in surprise and stared at the angel. “I thought you would have–”

“I’m yours, Dean. I never wanted to be anyone else’s.” Castiel cupped his cheek and kissed him, slowly and tenderly, until Dean relaxed again, his body going pliant against Cas’.

“Now, move,” he whispered against Dean’s lips and slapped Dean’s asscheek.

Dean started thrusting, slowly and tentatively at first, as their moans grew heavy and eager, and they were both gasping for air. Dean caught Cas’ lips in his as he shoved his cock inside him. Castiel clutched at Dean’s shoulders and clawed at the skin, making a deep noise in the back of his throat, halfway between a sob and a groan. Dean swallowed it all, air and sound, moaning right back at him.

Dean pounded into Cas’ heat, flesh slapping together as Dean moved deeper with jerky, shallow thrusts, gasping heavily into Cas’ open mouth as he quickly reached his climax.

Suddenly his world was turned upside down, _literally_ , and Dean found himself on his back with Castiel on his lap and riding him. _Bossy son of a bitch._

Castiel kissed him, before sitting back up, his hands finding support on Dean’s chest as he picked up the pace, eyes never leaving Dean’s and going ablaze. “Dean,” Cas’ voice was thick with want as his pace faltered, every muscle in his stomach shaking, breathy little moans escaping his lips.

“I’m here.” Dean gripped Castiel’s hips and bent his knees, using the leverage to push up into Castiel’s body, feeling his toes curling up painfully as the heat of his orgasm built and pulsed around his cock. “I’m close, baby.”

Dean reached between them and stroked Castiel’s hardness, pumping him in firm, tight strokes. Cas moaned loudly, pulling out and diving back down on Dean’s cock with shuddering breaths.

Cas shut his eyes and arched his back, his body clenching sharply around Dean’s cock and his black wings spasming abortively at his sides. Dean reached for them with his free hand and stroked them with the exact same dedication he was giving to Castiel’s cock.

“Dean.” Castiel threw his head back, moaning with satisfaction as Dean came apart with Cas’ name on his lips. Cas rode Dean through his orgasm, pumping Dean’s release into his hole, and tripping over the edge right after him. Streams of come left his cock and painted Dean’s chest in white before Cas collapsed on top of him.

They took their time to even their breathing, Cas sprawled on top of him as Dean draped his arms around the angel and pulled him tight to his chest. “I’m starting to think you have a wing kink,” Cas murmured into the crook of Dean’s neck.

“I didn’t see you complaining,” Dean replied and Cas chuckled in return.

They settled under the covers facing one another, arms lazily around each other, breathing warmly between feathered kisses and full smiles, their legs instinctively entwining beneath the sheets as their faces drifted closer.

“I love you, Cas.”

Dean dozed off with Cas nuzzling at his neck, draped around him like he had never left. And maybe he hadn’t… perhaps when you belong to someone, there’s always a part of you that stays – as a reminder of what’s real, as a dream that fills the gaps at night – until one day you come back… and even though Dean was not a dreamer, Cas had always been there, filling him with hope and dreams, filling the darkness with lights. The dreamer’s lights.

 

 

-THE END-


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